Resurrection: The Great Divide
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: In AC 182, the little prince Milliardo Peacecraft gave way to Zechs Merquise. Now, in AC 196, General Treize Khushrenada watches the events of that day from the Afterlife. . .the Great Divide.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The Gundam Wing characters don't belong to me. However, the Galinov and Malone families do. I have no problem with people borrowing them, so long as they are returned intact and credit is given where it's due.  
  
Part One  
  
When he was a small boy, Petyr Galinov's grandmother died. He was perhaps four years old at the time and at first, he remembered, it didn't sink in that he wouldn't see his grandmother anymore. And when it did, he was devastated. 'Devastated' was actually something of an understatement. He was inconsolable by Grandmere's death, until his older sister drew him into her arms. Looking back now, Petyr realized how he took his sister for granted. . .believing that his wonderful Natasha would always be there. And she was. But he wasn't.  
  
In any event, Natasha soothed him, calmed him down, then told him that while they couldn't see Grandmere, or hear her, she was still with them. Watching over them. Loving them. And one day, many years in the future, they would see her again. In the meantime, he was to be a good boy, like he almost always was, so Grandmere would be proud.  
  
More than fifteen years later, Petyr was now looking after his sister. He was happily reunited with his grandmother, if only for a brief time. Grandmere told him that one of them would remain behind, to watch over Natasha. Petyr, who didn't yet realize that he was dead, understood. His beloved sister's trials were just beginning. Grandmere wanted to stay. . .after all, Petyr was just a child. But Petyr was determined. It was his turn to take care of Natasha. For reasons which he still didn't fully understand, his grandmother acceded to his wishes.  
  
Petyr reached out his hand, wanting to touch his sister. It seemed that she was closer now than she ever was. But at the last moment, he pulled his hand back. So, instead, he watched his sister. She was sleeping on her side, her dark hair falling over her face like a curtain. They arrived on L2 the previous night. After settling in Ciara and Zechs, Shawn and Natasha bid each other good-night, then headed to their own rooms. Petyr scowled at Shawn. Idiot. What was he thinking, leaving his marriage unconsummated?  
  
However, his sister's marriage wasn't his focus today. He was due to get a visitor. . .who, Petyr realized, was late. It figured. The newcomers were almost always late. //It wouldn't surprise me,// Petyr snickered, //if they sent a spirit Gundam for this man instead of whatever he's expecting.// He immediately stopped his thoughts from going any further. This time of watching, wasn't about Petyr. It was about. . .forgiveness, for lack of a better word.  
  
"Where. . .am I?" the voice asked and Petyr turned to face his companion. Well. It was about time. He eyed the newcomer. While Petyr was six years old at the time of his physical death, and would have been twenty years old, if he lived, it suited him to take the form of a twenty- five year old man, the same age of his new companion. A tall, broad- shouldered young man with light brown hair and blue eyes, made even more distinctive by winged eyebrows.  
  
Petyr said in the Scottish burr which sounded so exotic to him when he first chose it, "Welcome, Treize Khushrenada. It's about bloody time ye got here. What, ye think just because ye were a general while ye walked the earth, ye could take yer own sweet time getting here?" General Treize Khushrenada blinked. Obviously, he wasn't used to someone his own age speaking to him in such a way. Except maybe Relena Peacecraft, or the gundam pilots.  
  
However, the general said in his smooth voice, "I do apologize, I had no idea I was late. Was I supposed to be here. . .wherever 'here' happens to be. . .earlier? You obviously know my name. . .might you grant me the same courtesy?" Petyr raised his eyebrows at the other young man. He was actually capable of talking like a normal person???  
  
However, he said, "Ye were supposed to be here. . .well, it's hours ago for us. Ye left the mortal plane six weeks ago, Treize Khushrenada. Come. There's somethin' I want ye to see." He began, indicating his sister, "Nata. . .Natalia Malloy." He caught himself just in time. He didn't want Treize Khushrenada to know his sister's name yet. Petyr went on, "Six weeks ago, she and her husband rescued a critically injured pilot."  
  
"What final battle?" Treize asked and Petyr remembered he died before the destruction of the Libra. Petyr waved his hand, changing the scene to the final battle between Heero Yuy and Zechs Merquise. He looked at Treize, who mouthed, "Milliardo." His blue eyes filled with shock, and Treize whispered, "Heero Yuy accomplished what I could not, what Milliardo's own sister could not. Oh, Milliardo." Petyr waved his hand once more.  
  
This time, the scene changed to Zechs sleeping in the room prepared for him by Olga. Petyr explained, "Zechs was critically injured in the resulting explosion. This young woman, Natalia Malloy, and her husband Shawn found Epyon floating in space. They pulled it aboard their salvage vessel and managed to save his life. That was six weeks ago. They won the battle to save his life. Now, the next part begins. The healing of his heart and soul."  
  
"Why are you showing me this?" Treize asked softly, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the sleeping form of Zechs Merquise. Petyr took the choice from his hands, once more waving his hand to change the scene to his sleeping sister. Treize turned to face him, repeating, "Why are you showing me this?"  
  
"I've shown ye Zechs Merquise's rebirth. Now, I want to show ye something else. The day Zechs Merquise was born," Petyr answered. Treize started to speak, but Petyr held up a hand, adding, "The first fall of the Sank Kingdom." Now it seemed that Treize couldn't speak, even if he tried. One more wave of Petyr's hand, and the scene was of an ivory castle, alive with the laughter of children. He whispered, mostly to himself, "The end of my life."  
  
Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
Six year old Petyr slid out from the huge car which carried him, his sister, and their parents from the airport in Sank City, to the palace. He slid neatly into the arms of his sister, who sighed, "Petyr, you are getting too heavy for me to carry! You are six years old, little brother, not a baby like Princess Relena."  
  
"Be happy that Relena did not hear you call her a baby, Tasha," laughed a beautiful young woman, "she gets very indignant when Milliardo does so! Oh, I forgot, I must not call you 'Tasha' now. You are a young woman of sixteen. My apologies, Lady Natasha." Petyr's sister laughed and managed a curtsey, despite Petyr in her arms.  
  
"That's perfectly acceptable, your Majesty. From you, I would never hesitate to accept it. To you, I shall ever be 'Tasha.' Speaking of which, Queen Katerina, where are the children?" sixteen year old Natasha Galinova asked as she straightened to her full height. Petyr saw their mother look at his sister, horrified.  
  
The queen, ignoring the older woman, simply laughed and put her arm around Natasha's thin shoulders, drawing the girl close. She said, "Milliardo is with Pagan, for his fencing lesson. Tell me, young Petyr, have you learned to fence yet?" She looked at the six year old, who felt shy suddenly and buried his face in his sister's blouse.  
  
Behind them, the king was speaking in low tones to Mama and Papa. He was a very tall man, even from Petyr's perch in Natasha's arms, with flowing white hair. In fact, he frightened Petyr a little until he saw the king smile unexpectedly. While they were on the way here, Mama and Papa told him that the king and queen were much like the Tsar and Tsarina. That alone frightened Petyr a little.  
  
His papa told him that they were distant cousins to the Kirov family, but when he saw the tsar, his father never smiled. He acted almost as if he was afraid of the tsar. So, when Mama told him that the king was like the tsar, Petyr assumed the worst. Seeing the very tall man hadn't helped matters much, either.  
  
But then, King Raoul. . .for he heard his father call the tall man Raoul. . .smiled, and that changed his entire face. Petyr couldn't hear what he said, but his father burst out laughing. His father. Was laughing. Queen Katerina smiled indulgently and told Natasha, "I believe his majesty is telling your parents about Relena's antics. She's the exact antithesis of Milliardo. He's so serious, and she's. . .well. . .a three year old. But, she always makes him laugh."  
  
"I would like to hear this. . .and where is Relena? You said that Milliardo was with Pagan, for his fencing lesson, but you never finished telling us about Relena, your Majesty," Natasha observed. Petyr was restless and he began to squirm. Natasha looked down at him and sighed, "Ready to get down, are you? Just hold my hand, all right? I have no wish to lose you on our first day."  
  
Petyr nodded. . .he wasn't quite brave enough to try exploring on his own yet. His sister set him on his feet, and as promised, Petyr held tightly to Natasha's hand. The queen waited until the brother and sister were ready, then said, "Tasha, I have known you since you were a small girl. Stop calling me 'your Majesty.' I've told your mother the same. I'm still 'Rina.' Remember?"  
  
Petyr wondered what the queen meant by that, and why his sister was laughing. After a moment, Natasha replied, "I stand correct, yo. . .I mean, Rina. Forgive me." Petyr looked from his sister to the queen, then back again, completedly confused. Papa was wrong. These people were nothing like the tsar and the tsarina. . .nothing at all!  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
"I do not understand. . .who are the boy and girl? Although, the girl called 'Natasha' looks a great deal like the woman Natalia. That was fourteen years ago. . .is Natalia, Natasha grown up? She looks to be about the right age. Natasha was about fifteen or sixteen, although I thought Natalia was twenty-five," Treize observed quietly.  
  
"Aye. She changed her name after the obscenity. Natasha Galinova, for that is the name of the family, became Natalia Gaston, Gaston being her mother's maiden name. And when she married Shawn Malloy, Natalia Gaston became Natalia Malloy. . .or, more simply, Talia," Petyr explained. Amazing. Treize Khushrenada could actually talk like a normal person. Or somewhat normal.  
  
"But I still do not understand. What is so special about this girl, this woman, aside from the fact that she knew Milliardo when he was a child? That she was there when the attack occurred? The attack occurred the same day she and her family arrived?" Treize questioned. He was frowning, and Petyr smiled grimly. Hooked him.  
  
"Nay, the attack took place a few weeks later. After the two families had a chance to get to know each other. . .or rather, reacquainted with each other. And that is part of what we will see next. Ye see, Natasha's father, Alexei Galinov, was about to be named Russia's ambassador to Sank. Ahh, now the name rings a bell with ye. Ye remember them, do you not?" Petyr asked.  
  
"I remember," Treize murmured, "I was eleven at the time, but I remember how pleased my uncle was when he learned that Galinov would be in Sank at the time of the attack. He and Galinov always hated each other." Petyr rolled his eyes. Oh, now there was an understatement to end all understatements!  
  
Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
"So, old friend. . .what made you change your mind? You know that it will be a long time before you see Russia again," Raoul Peacecraft said as he sat down in his favorite chair. Alexei Galinov sighed as he sat down opposite his old friend. He argued with Nathalie about this very thing. . .or rather, its effect on the children.  
  
"I know. In fact, that played into my decision. Natasha is sixteen years old, Raoul. Almost a young woman. As long as we remain in Russia, she will always be the daughter of a minor noble. You heard her at dinner tonight, and saw her with the children. She has the potential to be so much more! And the same is true of Petyr. In the Sank Kingdom, my children will have more opportunities," Alexei answered.  
  
"Oh, I listened very carefully to your daughter tonight at dinner. And I noticed that Milliardo was hanging on her every word. I believe my oldest child is becoming quite infatuated with your oldest child," Raoul said with a smile, adding, "Tis a pity he is ten years her junior, we could arrange a marriage for them."  
  
"We still could. My daughter would make a formidable queen," Alexei said seriously. Raoul blinked and Alexei remembered that his friend married for love. Unlike Alexei and Nathalie. Theirs was an arranged marriage, as was done in the old tradition. Alexei wasn't sure if he envied his friend or not.  
  
"I have no doubt of that. . .but she is a bright young woman. It would be foolish of us to presuppose she could not choose a husband wisely. Katerina was only a few years older than Tasha when we wed," Raoul answered. Alexei nodded and Raoul added, "Enough of this conversation. Milliardo is only six years old. Thinking of him getting married means thinking of grandchildren, and I have no wish to think of grandchildren as yet. Besides. There are other things we must discuss, old friend. Vital things, since you are to be my new ambassador."  
  
"The Alliance," Alexei guessed and his friend scowled, reminding the Russian diplomat of the boy he met years earlier, when they were both young soldiers convinced of their own immortality. Alexei continued, "I thought as much. I have heard disquieting rumors in Moscow. You think they plan to undermine the Sank Kingdom's call for disarming?"  
  
Raoul rose to his feet, walking to the huge bay window. Alexei did not press his friend. When Raoul was ready to speak, he would. Until then, Alexei would hold his peace. At last, Raoul turned back to face him and replied, "Something is coming, old friend. That is why I requested you. I want someone I trust at my side. When the Alliance makes its attempt, and they will. . .I will need your help. Quite possibly the help of your entire family."  
  
"You shall have it, your Majesty," Alexei promised. He knew he was promising a great deal. But he also knew he would rather die than leave his friend alone to face whatever the Alliance was planning to do. His next words were almost rash for a man his age, but when it came to this family, Alexei was still a fifteen year old boy. He told his friend, "I swear, I will do whatever it takes to protect your children. We will all protect the prince and princess."  
  
Raoul smiled at him, that brilliant smile which Alexei had always felt privileged to see, for it was so rare. The king said, "Well. Enough of this serious talk. I want to hear more about your children. Petyr is growing so quickly. . .I do believe he's taller than Milliardo!" Alexei chuckled, as he always did when someone mentioned his son. What was it Natasha called Petyr? Their little ray of sunshine?  
  
"Yes, but Milliardo has an easier time talking than my son does. Perhaps because he speaks more slowly, and thinks of what he wants to say. I am grateful to Katerina, however, for giving Petyr special permission to call your son by his middle name. Raoul. . .why in the name of all that's holy. . .?" Alexei began.  
  
"Did we name him 'Milliardo,' old friend? That's a very long story. For now, let's rejoin the ladies. I believe bedtime is coming for the children, and I know you want to say good night to your son. The last I saw, Relena was falling asleep in your daughter's arms. She took to Tasha rather quickly. I think Tasha playing 'flying Relena' may have something to do with that. A new game," Raoul observed.  
  
Alexei chuckled, remembering the sight of his daughter scooping the three year old princess into her arms and 'flying' her around the room, carefully avoiding anything crystal or glass. The little princess squealed with a combination of delight and terror, as only a three year old can. He said, "A game she can only play with my daughter, as Milliardo is entirely too small to attempt such a feat."  
  
Raoul nearly spit out his wine, laughing, then composed himself. Still, his brilliant blue eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter. Milliardo inherited his father's eyes, Alexei realized earlier that afternoon. Strange, he never truly paid attention to the little heir. Not until this visit. Perhaps it was because the boy was growing up. Perhaps because his daughter's proximity to adulthood reminded him how quickly children do grow up, often without a parent noticing.  
  
"Yes, but Milliardo has not yet learned his own limits. He would never willingly hurt his sister, but after seeing how Relena reacted to Tasha's game, he might try to make Relena fly as well," Raoul answered dryly. Alexei nodded. . .he noticed the same thing. The little prince pushed himself to his very limits, and beyond. A commendable trait in an adult, but Milliardo was just a child.  
  
Alexei observed, "He is very harsh with himself. I realize that he is your heir, the prince, but Raoul, I fear for him. He wants your approval more than anything. I fear what will happen to him if he believed that he disappointed you in some way." He could tell from his friend's expression that the same thing occurred to Raoul.  
  
"I am a coward, old friend. It is so easy for me to tell Milliardo what I dream of. But I lack the courage to sweep him into my arms, and tell him that I love him," Raoul answered. Alexei frowned. . .that was impossible! He saw Raoul with Relena! Then again, he acted the same way with Natasha. He loved his only daughter with an intensity that sometimes frightened him. But he could never bring himself to show that love. Still, he was sure that Tasha knew how much he loved her. For some reason, it was so much easier to show his affection to Petyr.  
  
"It always seems that no matter what we do, we end up hurting our children. Well then. I would say that no matter what the Alliance plans, I should make sure that my son always knows how much I love him. How proud I am of him. For, in the end, is that not the reason for pacifism? To make sure our children never have to fight?" Raoul asked, raising an eyebrow at the same time he raised his wine glass.  
  
Alexei smiled and raised his wine glass to his old friend, replying, "To our children, to pacifism, and to the past. To the happy accident that brought the brash son of a Russian diplomat and the heir to the Sank Kingdom together twenty years ago." Raoul smiled at the reminder of their first meeting and clinked his glass against Alexei's.  
  
"To our children, then. I think perhaps I will write him a letter. I always express myself much better in writing," Raoul answered and Alexei almost laughed. Almost.  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
"So, King Peacecraft knew something was coming. Did he ever write that letter to Milliardo, like he said he would?" Treize Khushrenada as the image of the two men faded from the 'screen.' There was no other way to put it, really. It seemed to be a huge screen of some kind, which shrunk or expanded according to the need of the moment.  
  
When he was a small child, Treize found several ancient tapes of a series from pre-colony years in the library of his older brother, Stefan. It frightened him, especially the opener of. . . what was it called? Oh yes. That was right. 'The Outer Limits.' But the screen reminded him of that show now. Strange. Treize hadn't thought of that in years. He found the tapes again as a teenager, while Milliardo was visiting.  
  
Treize smiled, remembering Milliardo's reaction to several episodes. Then again, with the horror of his early life, it was far more difficult to frighten Milliardo. His companion, who still had not favored Treize with a name, broke into his thoughts, saying, "Aye, he knew somethin' was comin,' but unfortunately, he didna realize what a high price he would have to pay for bein' wrong about the kind of trouble."  
  
He paused, waving his hand to show the Malloy family and Milliardo awakening and leaving the house. Milliardo's pale blond hair looked shorter, but Treize realized that it was merely tucked under. It gave the impression that his hair was much shorter than it truly was. In addition, he was dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, with a sweatshirt tied around his waist, and a baseball cap covering his eyes. Simple and effective. Treize murmured, "Very clever. She makes sure that he blends in."  
  
"What makes ye so sure that Natasha is the one who came up with the disguise?" his companion asked, then added, "Oh, and as for yer question about King Raoul, the answer is, none of yer concern. That is between him and his son. Nothin' to do with ye." Treize blinked at the outright hostility coming from his companion.  
  
However, he only replied, "I am not sure how I knew Natasha came up with the disguise. I just. . .knew. Did she become a warrior after she left earth? She has that purity to her, a soldier's purity." Treize stared at the young woman. She really did look much younger than the thirty or thirty-one she had to be. Especially with her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a baseball cap of her own covering most of her face in shadow. They were all dressed in varying uniforms of jeans and t-shirts.  
  
His companion snorted and said, "I always wondered if ye meant that bullshit ye spouted about the purity and nobility of war. Guess I have my answer." Treize blinked again. This man did not like him. At all. Not that Treize truly cared. He had not attained the rank of general by caring who disliked him or not.  
  
He replied, "Tis what I believe. And what of Natasha Galinova, Natalia Malloy? What does she believe?" Treize was fascinated with the woman who aided in the rescue of Milliardo. She stayed near his side, while the young girl. . .her daughter. . .remained with her father. She was pouting, Treize noted. . .the girl was pouting. Because she wanted to be with Milliardo?  
  
"She believes in keeping her family safe. She lost everything when Sank fell. She hates war, sees no nobility in carnage and destruction. But to borrow a phrase from her step-daughter Ciara, ye are NOT one of her favorite people. Same is true of her husband," the other man replied. Treize turned to ask about that, but his companion said, "Shut up and watch. Ye might actually learn something." And once more, the screen changed.  
  
Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
"Tasha, Tasha, Tasha, I never want to leave!" Petyr exclaimed. Natasha Galinova put down her book and smiled at her younger brother. They were here for almost two weeks, and he quickly made himself at home. At the moment, he was fighting off sleep. The prince and princess were both napping, and Petyr was still running on pure excitement. It was just a matter of time before he crashed.  
  
When he finally calmed down, she would take him upstairs and put him to bed. At the insistence of the little prince, Petyr was sharing his room. Natasha and her mother agreed that Petyr needed a little more time to wear himself out, so he didn't keep the prince awake. Katerina acknowledged that the child was VERY cranky without his nap.  
  
"Well, we'll be here for a few days after the ball, then we'll return to Russia for our belongings. King Raoul asked me if I would be like to attend Sank University. He wants to turn Sank into a mecca for students," Natasha said in a dreamy voice. And she wanted desperately to go to Sank University. She wasn't sure yet what she would study, but she had two years to figure that out. The king agreed, telling her that she had the rest of her life. Yes. . .she was only sixteen, and the world stretched out in front of her. She thought about studying medicine, or biology, but realized that wasn't what she wanted for the rest of her life.  
  
Psychology, then? History? Philosophy? Political science? Languages? Become a diplomat like her father? The possibilities seemed endless to her, the opportunities made her head spin. Her brother interrupted her dreams by inquiring, "A mecca? Whazzat?"  
  
Natasha shook herself, bringing herself back to earth, and put her arm around her brother. He was already winding down. Oh, he still fought it, but it would be less than an hour before he was out like a light. She replied, trying to think of something that he would understand, as he snuggled close, "A mecca is. . .well, a holy place. To some people, learning is holy."  
  
"Uhmmm. I like Julian, Tasha. He doesn't smile enough, but he's nice. Lets me play with his toys. The only time he gets mad if someone says something mean about Relena. She's funny. Was I that funny when I was a baby like her?" Petyr inquired. He was almost asleep now. Natasha grinned. A baby, hmm? She didn't point out to him that he was only three and a half years older than Relena.  
  
Instead, she shifted him in her arms, so he was lying across her lap. It would make it easier for her to carry him upstairs. Natasha smiled, remembering the little prince's explanation when his parents asked him why he wanted Petyr to share his room. He wasn't used to being around other little boys, and he was curious. Natasha said, gently caressing her brother's reddish hair, "Oh, yes. In fact, I think you were even funnier. And you are absolutely right. The prince should smile more."  
  
Petyr's only answer was to sigh. The older sister looked down at the younger brother with a gentle smile. He was out like a light. Gently, to avoid waking him, Natasha scooped him into her arms, holding him gently against her body, and carried him from the room. On the way upstairs, she passed Senator Dorlian. The young man smiled, his brown eyes flickering from the sleeping child to the teenager, and Natasha smiled back a bit ruefully.  
  
The room where the prince now slept was almost totally dark, the only light came from the sun streaming through the blinds. It was enough light for Natasha to reach the bed without tripping. She gently placed Petyr on the mattress, carefully removing his shoes. Petyr moaned in his sleep and turned on his side, away from her, and Natasha covered him up. She kissed his forehead, murmuring, "Sleep well, little brother. We have a great deal to do."  
  
Before she left the room, Natasha quietly checked on Prince Milliardo. The little boy lay on his back, breathing evenly. He was smiling softly, and Natasha wondered what he was dreaming about. Pleasant dreams, she hoped. She hoped that for once, the little boy was happy, rather than solemn. Natasha leaned forward and lightly kissed his blond curls, murmuring, "Dream well, little prince. Dream well."  
  
She wearily returned to the sitting room. The adults went into the city, to find a dress for Natasha's mother, leaving Natasha and Pagan behind to look after the children. Senator Dorlian and his wife stayed an extra hour, just to make sure the pair had everything under control, and as Natasha descended the stairs, she smiled at the couple.  
  
"Both boys are asleep, then?" Renata Dorlian asked and Natasha bobbed her head. The matron continued, "Maybe you should think about getting some rest as well. I know Petyr and Relena have been running you ragged, and you're a growing girl yet. And, you must think of the ball tomorrow night. Pagan can run things while you rest."  
  
Natasha was on the point of demurring, when Pagan entered and said, "That sounds like an excellent idea, Lady Natasha." Natasha grimaced to herself. She wished people wouldn't call her that. But it came with the territory, and she learned years ago to simply accept it. However, she quickly convinced both Milliardo and Relena to call her 'Tasha,' since that was much easier for Relena's three year old palate to enunciate. And Milliardo. . .  
  
Was a very sweet little boy. Shy. Solemn. But very, very sweet. Pagan added, breaking into her thoughts, "I can watch over all three of the sleeping angels. Get some sleep, Lady Natasha. You'll have need of it when the boys awaken, especially your brother." Natasha rolled her eyes, but had to admit that he was right. Petyr, as much as she loved him, could be. . .a handful. And Relena showed the same signs of being equally willful. A tendency her brother seemed to have, but his was cloaked by reserve. He would probably be more dangerous.  
  
"All right. . .I am convinced. Just awaken me when my parents arrive? They would not be happy if I failed to keep a promise I made to them," the young girl said. Pagan inclined his head, but not before she saw a gleam in the fencing master's eyes. Which meant it was unlikely he would awaken her. Damn. She hated having to rely on her alarm clock. She had a bad tendency to sleep through the alarm, a tendency she was trying to break.  
  
She curtseyed to the fencing master, and the couple, then went back upstairs to her own room. As she stepped inside, a faint smile crossed her face. Katerina gleaned from her letters over the last six months what kind of art, furnishings, and decorations appealed to Natasha. In turn, Katerina turned the room which would be Natasha's for the next two years into a dream room with aid from artist friends.  
  
It was her private sanctuary. Not even Petyr came in here. The only person who came in here, aside from Katerina, was Relena. The little girl, she learned, 'helped' by 'painting' a picture for the unknown teenager who would inhabit the room. Natasha collapsed onto her bed with a sigh. Pagan was right. She was exhausted. Made even worse by the conversation she overheard between her father and the king the previous night, while her mother and Rina were talking in the sitting room. Natasha went upstairs to check on the children.  
  
On her way back to the sitting room, she passed the study. King Raoul said, "Dermail will be at the ball. I know you and he do not like each other, I wanted you to know ahead of time." Her father's answer was a series of expletives. Natasha didn't think her father knew most of those words. She learned a great deal from boarding school, which she hadn't shared with her parents or her brother. When she felt the situation called for it, she could swear like a soldier or a sailor. Like most teenagers who were raised in her circle, Natasha believed her austere father didn't know half the swear words she did.  
  
He proved her wrong with that outburst. Once he was calm enough to speak rationally, her father said, "That man is trouble. His entire family is trouble. But I suppose I must kill him with kindness, as ever. But you have my word on one thing, Raoul. He is getting nowhere near my daughter. Not just because she's a lovely young girl, although that concerns me as well. But I fear him engaging her in a political discussion. That could be disastrous."  
  
"You should give your daughter more credit. She is, after all, the child of a diplomat. I have no doubt that Tasha is just as capable of killing him with kindness in her own way, as you are in yours," King Raoul answered, and Natasha was stunned to hear a hint of laughter in the monarch's voice.  
  
She was even more stunned to hear her father laugh outright, answering, "Yes, I am sure she is. She has had sixteen years of watching her mother and myself. Raoul, do we put too much, too many burdens on our children? Should Milliardo and Natasha not be enjoying themselves, instead of being used as photo opportunities?"  
  
Natasha frowned. She never heard her father talk like this. The king sighed, "Neither of us can change what we are, Alexei. Milliardo is my heir, he will rule one day. I want him to have laughter in his childhood, but he must be prepared for what may happen." There was a pause, then the king asked, "Alexei? If the unthinkable happens, might I name you and Nathalie as Milliardo's regents?" Natasha stifled her gasp, her eyes widening at the king's request.  
  
"Raoul! You must not talk like that!" her father blurted out, echoing Natasha's own thoughts. Her father continued, "Our warrior days were over years ago, once we realized that the Peacecraft heritage could not be denied. Once you became as sick of warfare as your predecessors had. We are not boys any longer, Raoul, we are not young men."  
  
"And my son is not a man. . .he is a child. Someone must fight for him, Alexei, until he is old enough and strong enough to fight for himself. Would you place such a heavy burden on the shoulders of a six year old boy? Would you force him to face the world alone? It is not unthinkable, my friend. It is very, very possible, that I will not live to see my son become a man," the king answered.  
  
He paused, then continued, "If I am correct, if I do not live to see my son grow to adulthood, then I want my oldest and dearest friend there to watch over him. I want him, and Relena, to have you and Nathalie as their parents, Natasha and Petyr as their siblings. Do I ask so much, old friend?" Natasha left her hiding place before she heard anything more. She was too shaken by what she already heard.  
  
She knew about Duke Dermail, of course. She was the daughter of a diplomat, as was her roommate, Beatriz Escalante. Natasha and Beatriz knew about the heads of state around the world. Although, in the case of Duke Dermail, he was also one of the leaders of the Romefellar Foundation. She didn't know, exactly, what the Romefellar Foundation was. But she did know that the duke was trouble. Her. . .sense. . .told her so.  
  
Natasha was half-French and half-Russian, and from her Russian grandmother, she inherited a sense about things. It was very difficult to explain. But she simply knew things. People didn't understand that. It was one reason why she never discussed with anyone. Except Rina. Then again, Rina was the only person who knew Natasha inside and out. Aside from Beatriz, the queen was the only person whom Natasha trusted implicitly.  
  
Natasha returned to her mother and Katerina, deeply concerned by what she heard. She made few contributions to the conversation. King Raoul was troubled by something. Natasha heard things in boarding school. . .she attended school with the daughters of some of the most influential people in the world. It was hard NOT to hear things. Now, less than a day later, Natasha once more thought of what she heard before her father pulled her out of school for this journey. More and more nations were taking up the call for disarmament. More and more people were following the Peacecraft example. That was wonderful. But Natasha was afraid.  
  
Beatriz summed it up when they were discussing the movement toward peace. Her own father was in Romefellar, and she observed there were many people, who did not want peace. //They,// Beatriz said, glancing at Natasha, //are a threat to the Peacecraft dream. And that is what it is. A dream of peace. A wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless. I would advise the Peacecrafts to be wary.// Natasha nodded, understanding.  
  
Lying in bed, Natasha shivered as she remember her roommate's warning. //She was trying to warn me about something specific,// Natasha thought, //that will happen soon. But what? She couldn't tell me directly. When the others get back, I must talk to the King.// Natasha made that resolution and drifted to sleep. She didn't realize it, but she left the door adjar. Only moments after she drifted off to sleep, the door was pushed open by a tiny hand. Princess Relena had a nightmare, and Mama wasn't here. Tasha, however, was.  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
The scene returned to the small family, but Treize Khushrenada was thinking about other things. About what he just saw. He was eleven years old when the Sank Kingdom fell. //They knew something was coming,// Treize thought, //all of them did. And the only one who really had any idea about what was coming, didn't understand the clue which her friend was trying to give her. A sixteen year old girl.//  
  
He realized for the first time that he, Une, Milliardo, and Relena weren't the only ones who grew up quickly. Treize still didn't know exactly what happened to Natasha Galinova on the day of the Sank attack, but he could already see that it changed her. //She knew something was coming, something terrible, but it never occurred to her that it was an attack?// Treize thought with the advantage of hindsight.  
  
"Do not presume to judge her, Treize Khushrenada. Ye have not seen everything. In a moment, ye will see more. But there is something in the present which needs to be viewed. Look," his companion said. Ignoring the surly young man's comments, Treize did look at the present picture. The young girl wandered away from her father, and for the first time, Treize realized that she had dark blond hair. Both Natasha/Natalia and the father had dark hair.  
  
//Which means,// Treize thought, //that she probably is not Natasha's daughter. Her coloring is more like the man's.// However, he shook his head and concentrated on what he was seeing. The girl slipped away from her father to play in the arcade. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen, that transition between child and woman. Her young face held the promise of beauty to come. //Yes,// Treize decided, //she is the man's child, not Natasha's. The bone structure is wrong for her to be Natasha's daughter.//  
  
The girl began playing a game, her blue-gray eyes intent on the screen. She was playing for perhaps fifteen minutes when a group of older kids, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, swaggered into the arcade. Treize stiffened. Bullies. Trouble. This was borne out a moment later when one of them shoved the girl away from the game. She stumbled, then righted herself and swung around to face them. Her dark blonde hair swung about her shoulders, her eyes blazing. The kids were laughing at her. . .one stayed beside the game and started playing in the girl's place. Another stood between her and the game, thumbs hooked through the loops of his jeans, a smirk on his face. The others were just watching and laughing.  
  
The girl seemed to be frozen, though Treize could see in her eyes that she wanted to fight back. He saw that expression in the eyes of a young boy, before those eyes were obscured by a helmut. Milliardo. Yes. She reminded him in that moment of eleven year old Milliardo. Angry. Defiant. The boy pushed her again, harder, so that she was knocked into a game. The figure at the game reached out a hand to steady her, saying in a drawling voice, "Now, that wasn't very nice of you. Didn't your mamas teach you to play nice?" Treize's eyes widened. He knew that voice.  
  
The owner of the voice turned away from the game, revealing a young boy, dressed in black. His long brown hair was worn in a braid which reached past his hips. He smirked, then said, "Now, this little lady was playing the game before you. Why don't you let her finish what she's doing, and then you can have your turn?" //I do know him,// Treize thought, //it's one of the Gundam pilots. Zero-two, unless I miss my guess. Duo Maxwell. Is he alone here?//  
  
"Why don't you stay out of things which don't concern you?" the first boy snarled. Treize found himself holding his breath. What would the brash young Gundam pilot do? He was one, the gang was at least four or five. However, Treize didn't count on one thing. Duo Maxwell wasn't alone. Three other boys appeared, including a slender young Chinese boy. Chang Wufei. Treize smiled faintly.  
  
The boy's dark eyes burned as he snarled at the bullies, "It does concern us. It always concerns us when the strong threaten the weak! How dare you, a group of four, threaten a child? Have you no sense of justice?" Treize saw the girl start to protest. . .'who are you callin' weak,' he saw forming on her lips, but Duo put his hand on her shoulder, effectively silencing her.  
  
"We don't want any trouble. Just leave this young lady in peace, and we can all walk away from this," the blond boy said earnestly. He took up position on the other side of the girl, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. Quatre Raberba Winner. Pilot Zero-Four, and the de facto leader of the group. At his side was Trowa Barton, pilot zero-three, a serene mask seeming to be at odds with his young face.  
  
So where was Heero Yuy? His companion murmured, "Ye'll see in a moment. Just watch. And by the way, the lass is called 'Ciara.' Was getting a little tired of ye callin' her 'the girl.' She has a name. And now, you know what that name is." Treize blinked. Would he ever get used to someone reading his thoughts? His companion added, "In time. Now shut up and watch." He was fond of saying that, it seemed. Shut up and watch, or something along those lines. Treize wondered if he was like that in life, then dismissed the thoughts.  
  
Instead, he turned his attention back to the screen. Realizing that they no longer out-numbered their prey. . .and being at least wise enough to realize that the young Chinese boy could be trouble, the leader of the bullies snarled, "This isn't over, pretty boy. We'll meet again, I can promise that."  
  
The four wandered away, each glaring daggers at the four Gundam pilots. . .and received glares in answer. Once they were gone, Quatre turned to the girl, asking, "Are you all right, miss? Did they hurt you?" The other three pilots formed a protective semi-circle around the girl, each face mirroring Quatre's concern.  
  
"I'm okay. Thanks. You. . .you're pilots, aren't you? The pilots of those five gundams?" Ciara asked. The four boys looked at each other in shock, then looked at her. Ciara kind of shrugged and said, "I've been living in space my entire life. I watched the battle with Oz and White Fang. I know who you are. And my. . .uncle. . .he fought in that war. He was with White Fang. Almost died in the final battle."  
  
The word 'uncle' was spoken hesitantly, and Treize looked at his companion. The other man clarified, "Natasha has been telling people that Zechs is her brother. As ye've probably guessed, Ciara is infatuated with him. It is for that reason that this part of the deception does not set well with her, but she understands the reasons for it."  
  
Treize nodded, understanding. Duo Maxwell said, "Your uncle was in White Fang? Did he ever tell you why they. . .what the hell Milliardo Peacecraft or Zechs Merquise, or whatever the hell he wanted to call himself. . .what he was trying to do? Trowa tried to explain it to me once, but I still don't get what he was thinking."  
  
"Don't you? I do," Treize murmured. His red-haired companion glared at him, and the late general fell silent. One day, he would have to find out why this man hated him so. Preferably sooner, rather than later.  
  
"He was trying to end war, for all time, my uncle told me. He said that Commander Peacecraft believed the source of all conflict was the earth, and that's why he planned to collide Libra with earth," Ciara explained earnestly. Deception was difficult for her, but she obviously believed what she was now saying.  
  
"Make the people of earth understand how terrible war really is, so they will never want to make war again," Trowa said quietly. Ciara looked at the dark-haired boy, surprised, then bobbed her head. Trowa continued, "What's your uncle's name? We battled White Fang, and thought we retrieved everyone."  
  
"Zachary Gaston. His name is Zachary Gaston. He was an MS pilot. He was acting as an escort for the evacuation from the Libra, and he turned back to help destroy it. He didn't get clear in time. My mom heard about the battle and she was afraid for him, so we went there," Ciara answered. Treize lifted an eybrow. For someone not accustomed to deception, she was doing a lovely job of it.  
  
"She's speakin' the truth, General, just editing certain facts. Ye should know that yerself, the difference between lies of commission and the lies of omission. Ye did it all the time," the man snorted. He turned blazing eyes to Treize, adding, "Like, when ye tricked the Gundam pilots, specifically Heero Yuy, into killing General Noventa for ye. Don't ye dare to judge that girl. She lies to protect her family from further harm. What was yer reason?"  
  
Treize wasn't sure how he knew, but he realized that he discovered one of the reasons why this man disliked him. He said, "I did what was necessary. Noventa was leading us to a false peace." The man snorted, obviously disgusted for his own reasons, and Treize said, barely keeping control of his own anger, "I have no need to explain myself to you. I will answer for my actions, but not to you."  
  
"AYE! Ye will answer to the one who Created ye. Not today, for there's a long line of people to be judged ahead of ye. But for now, ye will see what yer actions wrought. What the actions of yer uncle, Duke Dermail, wrought. First, ye should see the rest of this little drama," the other man said. He nodded back to the screen. Against his will, Treize returned his attention back to the screen.  
  
They missed something, for Ciara was now blurting out, "Milliardo Peacecraft IS not evil! How can you say that? Did you know him, did you know what he was doing? Do you know why he did what he did? Quatre, you took out two colonies while you were under the influence of the Zero system. How many people died? You're not evil, are you? Then why does Zechs have to be evil?"  
  
"You say 'is.' Do you know he escaped from the destruction of the Libra after he helped to take out the engine?" Trowa asked. A momentary flicker of fear crossed the young girl's face, and Treize wondered if he was the only one who saw it. He could see, however, from a flicker in Trowa Barton's emerald eyes that he was not. Ciara didn't see, however. Her small body was tense, her stance defiant.  
  
"I don't know that he didn't survive. No one ever found that monster he piloted. Speaking of monsters. . .what about Wing Zero? What about Heero Yuy? Where's he?" Ciara asked, looking around the arcade for the fifth member of the team. Chang Wufei left a few moments earlier, perhaps to make sure the bullies didn't come back?  
  
The boys looked at each other, then Quatre said softly, "He's on earth. Protecting Miss Relena. . .and. . .paying his respects." Treize looked at his companion. Paying his respects? What exactly did that mean? The other man sighed and waved his hand once more, leaving Treize to wonder if his hand ever got tired.  
  
Now, they were staring at an endless field of gravestones. A slight figure knelt in front of one. A young boy, dressed in jeans and a white shirt. Treize's companion muttered, "Thank God he's not wearing that damn tanktop and shorts for once. We'll get back to Ciara and the boys in a moment. And ye were right. . .Wufei was making sure the bullies did not come back. But he wasn't alone." Treize frowned, not certain what the man meant by that.  
  
And then his attention was drawn to the figure in front of the headstone. Heero Yuy said softly, "I've never done this before. Never sat in front of a gravestone and spoken with a person. Even now, I'm not sure you're really gone. I think I would be dead as well if you were. We're opposites of the same coin. You said, just before you initiated the self- destruct, that we would meet again. Maybe you meant on the other side."  
  
Now, Treize could see that the name on the stone read 'Milliardo Peacecraft.' Heero continued, "I've spent years being the Perfect Soldier. No emotions, no doubts. Just the mission. And within a year, a brother and sister shattered everything I ever believed in. They taught me that I was wrong. You fought more fiercely than any perfect weapon ever could, because you sought to protect. You taught me much."  
  
Heero reached out and traced the letters, murmuring, "And now, at the last, I understand. You were never my enemy, Zechs Merquise. We were on different sides, or so we thought. But we really were not. And because I did not know how, I never told you what I really meant. About the difference between being an obstacle and an enemy. I don't know why I'm saying this, since you can't hear me. Or maybe you can. I don't know."  
  
Treize looked at his companion, who shook his head. Heero continued, "The others would never believe it if they saw me. Talking to the grave of someone who was supposedly my archenemy. But if you were my enemy, Zechs, why did you keep saving my life? If you were my enemy, why did you try so hard to protect me? You let Trowa rescue me. . .you took on Oz by yourself, allowing Trowa, Noin, Relena, and me to get away. . .and then you initiated the self-destruct, rather than allow me to self-detonate."  
  
Heero shook his head, sighing. That was something else which Treize didn't know. He was learning a lot after his death, it would seem. The young Gundam pilot closed his eyes for a moment, then said, "I should have been more clear. After we battled, after the Sank Kingdom fell again. Epyon told me that you were an obstacle to my path. And you were. But you were the obstacle to my path as the Perfect Soldier. I didn't know how to tell you that. And so, you believed that I considered you to be my enemy.  
  
"I wonder now. What would have happened, if we joined forces then. What would have been different? We'll never know. It's useless to speculate, but I still wonder. Damn you, Zechs. Damn you." But there was no real heat in his voice. Heero sighed again, and said, "Damn you for being who you were. Damn you for loving Relena as much as you did. Damn you for trying to protect us. For not letting me die. I'm not sure what I do now, Zechs. I've been a warrior my entire life. And now I have no one to fight. We never settled what was between us. And we never will. Damn you for taking that from me."  
  
Now there was bitterness in his voice. Treize lowered his eyes briefly, then looked up once more. Heero looked up at the sky, then back at the headstone, as he continued, "And damn Relena for having you as a brother. You should have been my brother, Zechs, not my enemy. Maybe, in the next life. . .maybe next time, you will be my brother. My friend. Good-bye, Zechs Merquise. I hope you finally found whatever you were looking for."  
  
He gently lay his hand on the stone, then rose to his feet. He walked away from the headstone and turned back. He looked to the sky briefly, then said, "And you don't have to worry about Relena. I'll protect her. I promise." And then he did walk away from the grave. Treize didn't know how to react. What to think. That, alone, was enough to rattle him. He was never at a loss like this before.  
  
"We can look in on Ciara later. For now, there is more in the past which ye must see," his companion said softly. Treize nodded numbly, and once more, the screen changed. . . 


	2. Falling into the Nightmare

The Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
When the adults arrived back at the Peacecraft castle, they found the two little boys playing quietly in Milliardo's room. It surprised Alexei and Nathalie, who hadn't realized their six year old was capable of being quiet. As Nathalie softly observed to Katerina as they watched their sons, "It would seem Milliardo is a good influence on him."  
  
A half second later, as the children became aware that they weren't alone, Petyr squealed, "Mama!" Nathalie observed with some amusement that Milliardo winced at the piercing squeal, but he made no comment. Instead, he quietly rose to his feet, his solemn blue eyes focused on his own parents.  
  
"Relena is in Natasha's room. Pagan said that she was sleeping. . .Natasha, I mean, so we had to be quiet," the young prince explained in a soft voice. When Katerina frowned, Milliardo added, "Pagan also said that Relena had a nightmare, and she went to Natasha." Nathalie blinked, surprised that the small princess felt so comfortable with her daughter. They, after all, only knew each other for a few weeks.  
  
"I'll go wake them. . .I have a gown I want to give to Natasha for tomorrow's ball. Milliardo, darling, why don't you and Petyr clean up your toys, then get ready for dinner?" Katerina suggested, running her fingers through her son's blond curls. The child bobbed his head obediently and Katerina knelt, kissing the top of his head.  
  
"Katerina, it is hardly necessary for you to do this. I. . ." Nathalie began as she and the younger woman left the room together. The words trailed off, as Katerina turned to look at her. Her facial expression hadn't changed at all, but her eyes had. Nathalie was reminded that Katerina wasn't always a queen. Yes, her family was an ancient Austrian family. . .but it lost its money several generations previously. Katerina grew up with only the prestige of her family name, and she learned how to survive. While Raoul passed along his desire for peace to his son, Katerina's gift to Milliardo's personality was her fierce determination.  
  
"Nathalie, Natasha is my friend. I have never forgotten that while the other students were making fun of my sister, it was Natasha who looked after her. When Annika died, she asked me to look after Natasha, as Natasha looked after her. I will not break that promise to my sister," Katerina said in a quiet voice.  
  
Nathalie answered softly, "I would not ask you to do that, your Majesty. I only wanted you to understand that you don't need to make a fuss over my daughter. I understand she is your friend, but I fear that you will spoil her with all of this attention." The blue fire in Katerina's eyes grew even icier.  
  
However, she didn't answer. She merely walked down the hall to Natasha's room. Nathalie closed her eyes with a deep sigh. As ever, the mention of the queen's younger sister, dead these nine years, made her feel ashamed. Would the shame never go away? The sick feeling which always accompanied the memory of her husband's reunion with Raoul Peacecraft?  
  
She objected to her five year old daughter befriending the sickly Annika when the child arrived at her boarding school eleven years earlier. God only knew what kind of germs the child was carrying. It simply wasn't seemly for her to befriend a seven year old girl with a mysterious ailment. These things simply weren't done. And Alexei wasn't much help either, mumbling about work all the time. But Tasha was fiercely determined that the frail girl would not be alone. Did she know then that Annika was dying? Nathalie didn't know.  
  
What she did know was the five year old's kindness was to be repaid in a most unexpected way. Annika died two years after her arrival at the boarding school. . .died at home, in her older sister Katerina's arms. The seventeen year old just caught the idea of Raoul Peacecraft, an old friend of Nathalie's husband.  
  
It was Katerina's wish to marry while her sister lived, so Annika could be in the wedding. But this wasn't to be. So, a year after Annika's death, the eight year old Natasha was a bridesmaid in a royal wedding at Katerina's insistence. Annika, with her death, and the promise she extracted from her sister, brought two old friends together. She also created a lasting friendship between the sister she was given at birth, and the sister she found in the boarding school. She changed the Peacecraft and Galinov families in one other way. Annika forced Nathalie to confront the fear of losing a child.  
  
Since that time, since Annika's death, and her later marriage to Raoul, Katerina never lost touch with Natasha. She sent pictures of Milliardo and Relena regularly, and encouraged Natasha to confide in her. Perhaps understanding that Natasha wasn't like other girls? That she needed a queen as a confidante? Nathalie didn't know.  
  
But there were times when she resented the young queen for her place in Natasha's life. A place which belonged, by rights, to Nathalie. But when Nathalie tried to end the friendship between Annika and Natasha, she caused a rift with her daughter. That healed, somewhat, with the birth of Petyr. But her daughter, for all her gentleness, could be unforgiving. Or maybe Nathalie hadn't forgiven herself. She only knew that she longed to reach out to her daughter. . . she just didn't know how. Didn't know if it was possible. But she resented Katerina. She resented her for Natasha's obvious affection for her. She resented her for marrying for love.  
  
Alexei was a good father, a good provider, treated her well. But she didn't love him. He didn't love her. And no matter how many years they had together, that would never change. Nathalie once tried to take a lover. She hadn't loved him, either. She felt so empty inside. And it seemed so unfair that Katerina Peacecraft had everything she ever wanted.  
  
She saw Katerina slip into her daughter's room, heard the young queen murmuring something to Natasha. Heard Natasha's sleepy laughter. It occurred to her, for a moment, that she and her husband were a great deal alike. They both loved their children, so much. And yet, they could only show affection to their son. Why? Natasha wasn't a cold girl. She was quiet, yes, but she wasn't cold. Why couldn't Nathalie reach out to her daughter? Why couldn't Alexei? Her resentment against Katerina faded, leaving only anger with herself and her husband in its place. Katerina never hesitated to show Natasha affection, and Natasha responded.  
  
//If we lose our daughter,// Nathalie thought, //we only have ourselves to blame. But that will not happen. I will not lose my daughter. I don't know yet how I will do it, but I will find a way to reach out to her. The ball tomorrow night is a good time to do that. My sweet, sweet Tasha.//  
  
She leaned against the doorjam, watching as her daughter talked with Katerina. Natasha brushed her dark hair back from her eyes, stretching cautiously, trying not to wake up the sleeping child beside her. She seemed. . .less guarded. More at ease. She shouldn't be on her guard around her parents. Nathalie thought of her own parents, remembered how distant they were. Her parents never saw their grandchildren. Never held Petyr, never saw Natasha's rare but brilliant smile. //No,// she thought, //I will not become my mother. I will not lose my daughter. Sweet Tasha, forgive me. . .please, please forgive me.//  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
It was growing steadily more apparent to Treize Khushrenada that more lives were ruined and lost on the day the Sank Kingdom fell than he ever realized. More than just Milliardo and his family. He asked hoarsely, "How long? How long before the attack?" He never saw war like this before. Never seen. . .the world like this before. He didn't know if it was because he was watching from a distance. . .or because of something else.  
  
His companion said softly, "The attack will take place the morning after the ball. I will not bore you with the ball. Natasha told the king of her roommate's warning, explaining her own foreboding. She kept her promise." Treize nodded. Yes. He expected that. His companion continued, "As ye've probably realized, Milliardo had a crush on Natasha. That infatuation was heightened during the ball. He asked her to dance, after his father's dance with her. He quickly realized that they had a minor problem. . .he was a good bit shorter than she was. She settled the problem by swinging him into her arms and settling him on her hip."  
  
Treize laughed, quite unexpectedly, as he pictured this sight. His companion grinned and continued, "The rest of the time before the attack was spent with the two families discussing what came next. Oh yes. I was incorrect about the ball. There are two incidents which ye must witness. First, however, let us see about Ciara."  
  
The screen, which was dark after the image of Nathalie faded away, now lit up with Ciara. The Gundam pilots helped her find her father. But as the man finished his business, Trowa returned. He said, "I wanted to speak with you alone. I know what you meant. The man whom you spoke of, he isn't your uncle at all. He's Zechs Merquise." Ciara went white and she looked around wildly. Trowa said softly, "It's all right. I didn't tell the others. I don't know how he survived, and I don't care. It's not important. Just. . .make sure I'm the only one who figures it out. You're not very good at deception. If many people realize he's still alive. . ."  
  
"I know. Please. Don't tell your friends. They might want to kill him, and we've had to convince him that he doesn't deserve to die. He still doesn't believe he should be alive, after all the things he did wrong. But if he should die for what he did wrong, then what about everyone else? What about me?" Ciara asked.  
  
Trowa sighed and answered, "I can only tell you what I believe. Zechs Merquise still has people who care about him. A family. As long as he has that, he shouldn't give up. Cathy. . . she's like my sister. That's why I was fighting. My home, my family. I won't tell anyone that Zechs is still alive. Everyone deserves a second chance. And in the end, he helped us to destroy Libra before it could destroy earth. All right?"  
  
"All right. Thank you, Trowa," Ciara said softly, her blue gray eyes shining with relief. The young man smiled in response, and Ciara added, "I. . .I wanted to thank you again. For helping me. In the arcade. I don't know what I would have done, if you and the others hadn't helped me." Trowa's only answer was a smile.  
  
Then, the girl's father was returning and Trowa said in a voice pitched to carry, "Your uncle Zachary is very lucky to have you, Ciara Malloy. I hope he knows that. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you all as his family." Ciara beamed in response and Trowa smiled again, then walked away. Treize never heard so much out of Zero-three. Then again, perhaps he only spoke when he judged necessary. And perhaps, now was necessary.  
  
Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
Christina Rogers watched in amusement as the dark-haired teenager, Natasha Galinova, swept Prince Milliardo into her arms, settling him on her hip. The twenty-eight year old Canadian doctor muttered, "I LIKE that girl." She didn't realize she wasn't alone until she heard the low chuckle at her side. She looked to her right, to find Katerina Peacecraft.  
  
"She has that effect, I've found. She's won Milliardo's heart now. For the rest of his life, he will remember this ball, and the sweet young woman who ignored propriety so he could dance with an adult," Katerina replied. She smiled at the blonde doctor, adding, "So, Kit, how are you finding your first official ball? I wasn't sure if I could ever convince you to come." Kit rolled her eyes, and Katerina laughed, adding, "Oh, Kit. I hope you never change."  
  
"Now, that would be boring. And from what your husband was telling me earlier, Lady Natasha won Milliardo's heart weeks ago. And Rina, please. . .why did you saddle that poor child with such a dreadful name? You know it will be butchered a thousand ways by the time he reaches twenty!" Kit exclaimed.  
  
"I know," Katerina answered with a sigh, "I know, and I told Raoul that. I wanted 'Sebastian,' but his father insisted. 'Milliardo' was the name of a man who died saving his life. . .Raoul's, that is, a man whom Raoul doesn't even remember. But, we did give him the more. . . attractive second name of 'Julian,' which is what I often call him."  
  
"Well, that's somewhat better. Still, 'Milliardo.' That poor child. I know how children tease, and he will get a great deal of teasing when he starts playing with other children. How is Petyr handling it? I know he's the same age as your boy, and he's a little more rambunctious. More like Relena, actually," Kit observed. She helped to deliver both royal children, and she felt no compunction about sharing her thoughts with the mother, queen or not.  
  
"He couldn't pronounce 'Milliardo,' so I told him to use 'Julian,' instead. It's so funny, Kit. He'll run around the castle, shrieking either, 'Tasha, Tasha, Tasha,' or 'Julian, Julian, Julian.' I think Pagan has an eternal headache now as a result, but he'll live. Enough. . .the dance is almost over, would you like to meet Tasha?" Rina asked.  
  
"Love to," the Canadian answered, then added with a mischievous grin, "And this ball is nice, but it's nowhere near as exciting as the last one I attended." Katerina responded with the rather unqueenly action of sticking her tongue out at the older woman. Kit laughed. . .she lived in the Sank Kingdom for eight years, ever since she graduated from college. She went to medical school here.  
  
And, six years earlier, on a night much like tonight, she delivered the infant prince. Katerina went into labor during a ball. Kit was quite sure none of the other guests would ever forget that ball, either. It wasn't every day that one watched one's queen giving birth. Raoul was too concerned with his wife and child's well-being to shoo anyone away, and Kit's worry was for Rina and the baby.  
  
But the night cemented the regard in which the queen was held. Many common people were at that ball, and watching the queen give birth to her son, as any woman would, endeared her to them. Kit shook her head in amazement. She would have sworn the event would have turned people against Katerina. That was why she was a gynecologist, instead of a psychiatrist. Kit shook her head and walked along as Katerina drew her over to meet Natasha Galinova.  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
"Why is she important?" Treize asked in confusion. He heard of Kit Rogers, but didn't know she played into this tragedy. After that day, Treize heard her name for the first time. She was part of the Alliance, as a doctor. If memory served, she was Sally Po's mentor.  
  
"Because she was there on the day of the attack. You see, Kit was being considered for the position of the queen's personal physician. That was why she was at the ball that night. The king wanted to speak with her personally about it, to see how she would feel about it. Rather than travel back to the city that night, she remained overnight in the castle, as an honored guest of the king and queen," his companion replied.  
  
"If she was a friend to them, why did she join the Alliance? Milliardo did so, to strike back against those who took his family away from him. But he was a child at the time. She was not," Treize asked, growing somewhat confused. The introduction of Kit Rogers threw everything out of focus.  
  
"Because it was a way to keep watch over the prince. But that is what is to come. Now, Treize Khushrenada, it is time, and long past time, for you to witness what happened that day. What turned a six year old prince into the boy who was to become the Lightning Count. What turned Milliardo Peacecraft, the young scion of a peace-loving family, into Zechs Merquise, a brilliant ace pilot," his companion intoned. Almost again his will, Treize turned his attention back to the screen. The once-dark screen lightened, until he could see the outline of the castle. It was early morning, he realized. . .  
  
The Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
In the years after that day of blood and fire, Natasha Galinova would never know what woke her. The previous night was the most wonderful of her life. Dancing with the king, with her father, with the little prince. She met Dr. Christina Rogers, who delivered both Milliardo and Relena. And, her dance with Milliardo kept her out of the clutches of Duke Dermail.  
  
Natasha giggled to herself as she slipped under the covers. She learned that when Duke Dermail saw her put the six year old prince on her hip, he decided that she wasn't worth his notice. 'Boo-hoo,' Natasha told Rina, who laughed outright. There were times when Rina laughed, when she reminded Natasha of Annika. The memory of her lost friend eased to a dull throb when she thought of Annika. Everyone made such a big deal about her friendship with the sick little girl. . .why did no one understand? Annika needed Natasha. . .and, Natasha needed Annika. In her own way, Natasha was just as much of an outcast as Annika was.  
  
At least, Natasha was an outcast before Beatriz entered her life. Beatriz helped to take away some of the pain of losing Annika. Only six months older than Natasha, Beatriz was unexpected in more ways than one. While she was Spanish, Beatriz had blonde hair and blue eyes. Most of the girls in the school didn't know that there were fair Spaniards. //As Madame Beaudouin once said,// Natasha thought sleepily, one must learn something new every day. Some of the other girls laughed at her for saying that. //Of course,// the Russian girl decided, //I should tell Beatriz about the ball. She would like that.//  
  
Telling Beatriz about the ball was the last thing which Natasha thought as she drifted off to sleep. But what she thought, when she awoke, was, 'something is terribly wrong.' She wasn't sure why she felt that way, why it was so strong. But Natasha was never one to ignore her instincts. Right now, they were screaming at her to get up. This time, she was awakening alone, since Relena was still in her room.  
  
Natasha pushed herself out of bed, easing her feet into a pair of slippers, then pulled on her robe. She moved slowly out of her room, tightening the belt around her waist, and first checked on the two little boys. Both Milliardo and Petyr were asleep, she was relieved to see. Her next stop was Relena's room, and the little princess was sound asleep as well. So the children were all right.  
  
Her journey took her downstairs. Not even the kitchen staff was awake, but breakfast didn't begin until eight most mornings. According to her clock, it was just past five. She padded through the corridors of the palace, passing the king's private room, when she heard a voice inside the door. Natasha stood stock-still. It was the king, but who was with him?  
  
Working up her courage, as she did to tell him about Beatriz's warning, Natasha forced herself to knock on the door. It swung open, revealing a very haggard looking king. Natasha immediately apologized, feeling her face turn scarlet with embarrassment. Oh, her parents would be furious with her about this! They still hadn't found out about her eavesdropping on her father's conversation with the king recently, but she was sure they would eventually  
  
But Raoul Peacecraft didn't seem angry with her. In fact, he smiled wearily, saying, "Burning the midnight oil is a common failing in my family. I took your warning last night more seriously than you realized, young Natasha. I doubt if you realized what a chance you were taking, passing along your friend's warning. It's for that reason, I want you to have something."  
  
He put his hand on her shoulder, leading her into his study, and went on, "For many weeks, I've sensed something coming. I'm not like you, Natasha. I haven't your sense for what's to come. Yes, dear child, I do know about that sense you have. But my instinct comes from being a warrior. Oh, don't look so surprised. I fought in my share of wars, and grew to hate it as much as my father had."  
  
He sighed and motioned for her to sit down. Once she was seated on his davenport, the king sat down in his chair, saying, "I have no idea where to begin, little one. The important thing, though, is that you survive whatever happens. My survival isn't as important as yours, and your brother's, and that of my children. You are the future. You must survive."  
  
"You frighten me, your Majesty, with talk such as this," Natasha said nervously, and the king smiled wearily. He looked. . .old. He was the same age as her father, but right now, he seemed decades older. He brushed a lock of his long white hair back from his eyes. Ice blue eyes, just like Milliardo's.  
  
"Forgive me, little one. But I have need of you. I have need of your strength and your youth. Last night, after our conversation, I realized that there was much I must tell my son. I want you to give this to him, Tasha," the king replied. Natasha frowned. She was growing more and confused by the moment. Give what to Milliardo? What was the king talking about? Why was he saying these things? And why was he frightening her so terribly?  
  
Raoul Peacecraft drew himself to his full height and walked to his desk. Natasha admired that desk many times, in the few times she came in here. But now, she feared that very same desk. When he turned back to Natasha, he held a small diskette in his hand. He walked to Natasha and took her wrist, placing the diskette in her hand. He closed her fingers over it, saying, "This, my dear, is my message to my son. He will need to hear it. I entrust it, to you."  
  
He started to say more, but it was then that the earth trembled under their feet. Natasha cried out, unable to stop the scream that fought its way up from her throat, even as a devastating noise threatened to shatter her eardrums. The shaking of the earth forced her off-balance, but Raoul Peacecraft drew her into his arms, protecting her.  
  
Then he released her, whispering, "Dear God, it's begun. Natasha Alexeya, give me your word that you will give that diskette to my son. Give me your word of honor that you will do what you can to protect my family!" Natasha barely had time to choke out an affirmative, before the earth shook again. It was enough for the king, who pushed her from the room, gasping, 'Then go, little Natasha, go to my children! I must see to my queen! Damn you! Damn you!" Natasha stumbled from the room, uncertain whom he was damning. But she had no further time to wonder about it, for she heard a child screaming.  
  
"RELENA!" Milliardo cried out, and Natasha forced herself to run upstairs as the door burst open behind her. She spared only a glance behind her as she raced up the stairs to find the children, but that mere glance made her blood run cold. Men. In uniform. Uniforms which did not belong to the Sank Kingdom.  
  
//Oh God help us all,// Natasha thought, forcing her legs to move faster. It seemed as her feet were stuck in mud. The little blond prince was out of his room, his blue eyes wide, and Natasha swept him into her arms, before the soldiers below could see him, before he could scream his sister's name again. Milliardo clung to her, his small body trembling in her arms. Natasha looked around for a hiding place. . .where, where, where? She could hear the soldiers, inside the castle. Shots ringing out, accompanied by screams. Milliardo trembling in her arms.  
  
And then, Natasha saw it. The table. Oh, blessed, blessed table. Two days earlier, Katerina showed her a secret passage. Annika and Natasha often dreamed of secret passages and tunnels in their daydreams together. They seemed so mysterious. Perhaps remembering those childish dreams from her sister's last days, Rina showed Natasha one of the many secret passages in the castle.  
  
Whatever her reason, Natasha blessed her friend for the tour. She carried Milliardo to the entrance, under the table, and scooted them both into safety. Behind them, she heard Senator Eric Dorlian exclaim, "For the love of God, she's my daughter. . .she's frightened enough, don't frighten her more! Renata, take her!" Natasha spared another look. . .Eric and Renata Dorlian were confronted by several soldiers. A weeping Relena was cradled against Eric's body, and he glanced over at Natasha and Milliardo's hiding place.  
  
Knowing that if she saw her brother, Relena would give them away, Natasha interposed her body between the siblings as Relena was passed from Eric to Renata. The danger was past, and Natasha turned to Milliardo, murmuring, "This tunnel will take you to safety. Do not go outside, until you hear me knock. The password is, 'the big tree.' Do you understand me?" Milliardo bobbed his head, and Natasha continued, "I will meet you there. BE CAREFUL!"  
  
"I will, Lady Natasha. Look after my sister. Mama and Father, are they all right?" Milliardo whispered and Natasha bobbed her head with a smile. The little boy sighed with relief, then surprised the teenager with a brief, fierce hug. With practiced ease, he crawled through the small door, leaving Natasha to wonder how long he knew about it.  
  
But she had other things on her mind at the moment. She ran to Milliardo's room. Petyr was nowhere to be found. Natasha fought her terror. Oh, God, where was he? Her parents would never forgive her if something happened to Petyr. . .where could he be? And then she heard it. A strangled sob, someone trying not to cry. Natasha wheeled around and dropped to one knee beside her brother's bed. She lifted the blanket, to find him staring at her. He whimpered when he saw her and Natasha reached out to him. Petyr almost tackled her, sobbing.  
  
Natasha just held him, rocking him back and forth. He couldn't even speak, he was crying too hard. They were sitting there like that when Natasha heard footsteps behind her. Already regretting the instinct which made her comfort her brother, rather than taking him to find Milliardo, Natasha half-turned. She was shielding her brother with her own body, but she didn't know if that would be enough to protect him.  
  
But it was their parents, and Petyr jumped out from behind her, throwing himself into their mother's arms. Natasha got to her feet, saying, "Senator Dorlian has Relena. . .he kept the soldiers from killing her. I got Milliardo into a secret passageway, leading out of the castle, and told him to wait for me."  
  
"Good girl. I assume you set up a password with him?" her father asked and Natasha bobbed her head. Yet another reminder of Annika. The passwords. . .yet another game, something that seemed so mysterious and so forbidden. The sort of things which enchanted small girls. Her father smiled unexpectedly and said, "I thought as much. We'll retrieve Milliardo, while you and Petyr lead the soldiers away."  
  
Natasha looked at her parents doubtfully. She could lead the soldiers away, but why Petyr? Her mother said, "Darling, listen. Milliardo is worth more to the soldiers alive than dead. I want you to dress Petyr in one of Milliardo's outfits. They would never shoot a six year old child. The world would never forgive them."  
  
"Raoul is searching for Katerina. . .when I passed him, he told me to look after the children. Relena is in good hands for now, so Milliardo is our top priority," her father added.  
  
Natasha looked at her father, but it was Petyr who said, "I wanna!" Natasha's eyes flickered to her brother, and she sighed. He was so much like her at six, the Natasha Galinova who emerged when she was with Annika. This would have been the exact kind of thing which would have appealed to Natasha when she was her brother's age.  
  
"Oh, very well. Father, the password I gave Milliardo was 'the big tree.' You know the one. Where you found the four of us last week," Natasha told her father. She saw a smile flicker across her father's face at the mention. He found them all right. . .found all four of them asleep under the big tree, the royal siblings with their heads on Natasha's lap, and Petyr's head resting on her shoulder.  
  
"Very well, 'the big tree' it is, then. Good luck. . .and we'll meet you at that big tree in a half hour," her father said. Their mother put Petyr on the ground, and Natasha began rooting around in Milliardo's drawers, feeling like a thief. But if they were to pull this off, she had to have something which belonged to him. Petyr was a little taller than Milliardo, but at a distance, no one would really notice.  
  
Petyr was already recovering from his fright, and he looked around as well, offering suggestions. Natasha had an idea what she was looking for, though. . .a pair of pajamas. They weren't that much different from the pajamas which Petyr wore. . .it wasn't like Katerina wanted the Sank symbol embroidered on her children's clothes.  
  
Her friend always believed that sort of display was foolish, a thought which Natasha shared. . .but it made her search a little more difficult. However, after a few moments, she found exactly what she was looking for. As she helped her brother into his borrowed clothes, she could only hope that her parents were right. . .that this would work. Natasha stepped back, eyeing her little brother. His reddish-brown hair was tousled, as a little boy's hair should be. Even a little prince. Natasha hugged him briefly, then took his hand. It was time they played decoy.  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
"And so, that was how the children of Raoul Peacecraft were separated. Eric Dorlian heard Relena screaming in her room, awakened by the bombings. When confronted by the soldiers, he claimed that she was his daughter. If they knew, the soldiers would have killed the little girl. . .never mind that she was only three years old," the man said quietly as they watched Natasha and Petyr leave the room.  
  
"Was there no way for the ambassador and his wife to get Relena? I know they were looking for Milliardo, but. . . And since he didn't grow up as part of their family, they obviously didn't find him. What happened? I remember Milliardo from his early childhood. If Natasha told him not to leave the tunnel without hearing from her, or hearing the password, he would not. What happened?" Treize asked.  
  
"The soldiers set fires. One of the fires found its way into the tunnel. Milliardo had no choice. . .he had to leave the safety of the tunnel. And once he was in the open air, he. . .he started doing what he does best. Trying to help people. Ended up wandering away from the castle," the other young man replied. Treize closed his eyes, able to see this happening very well. His companion added, "Open yer eyes, General. This isn't over yet." There was a bitterness in his voice, and Treize opened his eyes to stare at the other man. There was hatred burning in the bright blue eyes, as the man continued, "This is not finished yet."  
  
Reluctantly, for he had an idea what would happen, Treize focused on the image of the brother and sister. By now, the fire was moving from room to room. . .  
  
The Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
As she promised, Natasha led the soldiers away from her parents and Milliardo. Always keeping Petyr a little ahead of her, always making sure that her own slight body stood between him and the soldiers. Always giving the soldiers just enough of a glimpse to make them believe that the prince was with her.  
  
But she forgot about the side. She forgot that there were other angles from which one could shoot. But she remembered very quickly when she felt something swift burn her thigh, caressing both cloth and skin. . .before hurtling into her younger brother's back. The force of the bullet sent him stumbling forward, and at first, Natasha didn't realize what happened. Until she heard the echoing shot. Until she saw the blood on her brother's back.  
  
Natasha nearly tripped over her feet, and succeeded in falling to her knees. She screamed her brother's name as she dragged herself to his side and turned him over. He was staring at her, his blue eyes filled with pain and terror. Petyr whimpered, "It hurts. Tasha, it hurts, ma. . ." His small body convulsed in her arms and he began coughing. The bullet struck a lung, and even now, blood was pouring into the afflicted organ.  
  
But Natasha didn't know this. She only knew that her beloved brother was hurt, that he needed her, that she couldn't let him down. She took off her bathrobe and tore a sleeve from her father's gift to her the previous Christmas. She wadded it up, pressing it against the wound in Petyr's back, then tied the sash around him, to keep it in place. All the wall, talking to her brother, soothing him, despite the tears which rolled down her cheeks.  
  
It was too late, of course. But Natasha didn't know that. Not until she lifted him into her arms once more, and saw the glassy look in his eyes. She whispered, "Petyr? Focus on me, little love. . .look at me, Petyr. Petyr? Little one?" As if from a distance, she heard the whine in her voice as she pleaded with her brother to look at her. But Petyr wasn't looking at anything. Petyr was dead. Petyr died as she struggled to save his life with just the sleeve torn from her robe and the sash. Natasha couldn't accept that, though. Petyr was six years old. He was a laughing, exuberant, mischievous little boy with an abundance of energy.  
  
He couldn't be dead. He was only six years old. Six year old boys didn't get shot in the back. That was ridiculous. How could anyone who called themselves a soldier shoot a six year old? Especially without calling out a warning first. No. That. . .No, that wasn't possible. And yet, no matter how much Natasha tried, Petyr's blue eyes remained fixed on the sky, and his breath didn't warm her cheek. He was dead. Her little brother was dead. One moment, he was running in front of her, leading the soldiers away from the real prince. . .and now he was dead.  
  
As Natasha at last accepted this, something deep within her broke. Shattered into a thousand pieces. The tears she never before allowed herself to cry now emerged, long-buried grief exploded in one single scream, a scream which seemed too great from the dark-haired sixteen year old girl. The girl on her knees in the grass, cradling a small form against her body. But it did come from her, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! No, no, no, oh no!" She rocked the child in her arms, burying her face in his reddish-brown hair. Her screams went unheard. There were too many other screams that day.  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
Treize stared at the heart-rending sight. . .the sixteen year old girl on her knees, cradling that still, small body against her. He wanted to look away from that horrific grief, wanted to close his ears against the broken screams which emerged from Natasha's throat. But he couldn't. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away. Nor could he look at the faces of the two. . . beasts. . .who just shot down that little boy. They didn't deserve to be called soldiers, or warriors, not when they shot at little boys. Children.  
  
His companion said in a dead voice, "They still don't know how many people died that day. Not even Kit Rogers, a physician, could keep a total of how many people she pronounced dead. The soldiers wouldn't allow them to keep a running total. It was as if they wanted to deny that the Sank Kingdom, that the Peacecraft family and those who believed in them, served them, loved them, ever existed."  
  
The other young man turned to looked at Treize, continuing in a hoarse voice, "Lives were lost that day, General Khushrenada. Lives were lost, families were torn asunder, dreams were shattered. And two children, Natasha Galinova and Milliardo Peacecraft, would have their very identities taken from them. It was the only way Milliardo could survive. . .the only way Natasha could heal."  
  
He shook his head, sighing, "And for fourteen years, I've watched over them both. Natasha and Julian. Praying that one day, I could do something to take away their pain. But there is nothing I can do. There never has been. No matter how much I pray, no matter how much I hope, there is nothing I can do."  
  
Julian. That was Queen Katerina's special name for Milliardo. And the name she allowed Petyr Galinov to call her son, because the diplomat's small son couldn't wrap his tongue around Milliardo. Treize finally understand. He said quietly, "You are Petyr Galinov. Brother of Natasha, son of Alexei and Nathalie."  
  
"I am," his newly-named companion answered shortly. Treize nodded. Things were falling into place. Including Petyr's hostility. He probably realized years earlier that the Romefellar Foundation had a hand in the destruction of the Sank Kingdom, and by extension, Petyr's own death. He also knew that Treize was an official of the Romefellar Foundation. Guilt by association, even though Treize was only eleven at the time of the tragedy.  
  
"So, you are Russian. Why then, in the time I have been here, have you spoken with a Scottish accent?" Treize asked. For the first time since witnessing the child's death, Petyr looked at him, contempt written plainly in the bright blue eyes. Contempt. Hatred. Treize accepted them all, now understanding the source.  
  
"Because I'm bloody well dead, ye idiot, and I can damn well be whatever I choose, that's why!" Petyr snarled. Treize blinked. He saw. He thought. Petyr brought his anger under control and added, "And ye don't see anythin' yet, General. Ye only think ye do. There is still much for ye to learn. So watch and learn, General. Watch and learn." Treize reluctantly turned his eyes back to the screen. But he was comprehending already what Petyr wanted him to learn. However, out of respect for what was taken from Petyr, he watched.  
  
Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
She carried him to the big tree he loved so much, the tree he climbed with Milliardo, daring the little prince to climb higher and higher. She didn't know what else to do with Petyr's body. She hated leaving him here, but it wouldn't be safe inside either. And so Natasha tenderly placed her little brother under his special tree, folding his small hands over his heart.  
  
She had to cover him up. Had to cover him, protect him from prying eyes. And animals. Natasha wasn't thinking rationally. There were no animals in this part of the Sank Kingdom, and even covering him up wouldn't be much protection against the human animals who took his life. But still, she pulled off the ruined bathrobe. . .it would be enough to cover him. As she kissed his forehead one last time, then covered him up, Natasha's attention was caught by a scream, a scream which was cut off by a gunshot.  
  
"Forgive me," she whispered to her brother, then headed backward the castle. It sounded like the general area of the tunnels, and she feared for Milliardo. What if her parents were killed as well? Someone had to take care of Milliardo. But it wasn't Milliardo. . .as Natasha drew closer to the castle, three figures in uniform dragged out a third.  
  
Natasha quickly hid, her eyes darting about. Where was Mother? Father? Milliardo? Then she looked back at the hostage, and gasped. It wasn't just any hostage. It was the king himself. He said in a clear voice, "Do with me what you will. My children are safe."  
  
"Oh, we'll see about that, my dear King. My soldiers tell me both of your brats are dead. . .as you soon will be along with your queen. Such a high price to pay, Raoul, for an ideal. I'm told that you swore to bring peace to your kingdom and the world over the cradle of your son. What a pity, neither he nor you will see it," a man said mockingly.  
  
Natasha swallowed hard, instantly fearing this new threat. He didn't look familiar, but the king obviously recognized him. He rasped, "And what of you? What would you do to ensure your son's future? Can you truly tell me that you wish him to grow up as we did, Stefan? To see the things we did?"  
  
"Oh, he will not," said the velvety tones of their assailant, "nor will my brother. Father is weak, like you, but I am not. And Treize will not be weak, either. Already, I teach him to love the Mobile Suits. I teach him the glory in war, the beauty of battle. I would have brought him here today, but he is young yet."  
  
Now Natasha knew the identity of the man who attacked. The man who ordered the death of the prince and princess. The man who, with his word, signed the death warrant of her little brother. Stefan Khushrenada. She committed his face to memory and silently swore that one day, he would pay. And then she said a silent prayer of deliverance for his innocent younger brother.  
  
"Then God help that poor child, for one day, your brother and my son will face each other in battle," King Raoul answered quietly. Stefan laughed aloud, and Raoul continued in that quiet, intense voice, "You laugh now, Stefan. You tell me that my son is dead. I tell you, I knew the moment of his birth. I will know the moment of his death. *And Milliardo is not dead.* Thanks to this disgusting act, you have turned my son into a soldier." His blue eyes were still on Stefan Khushrenada when the soldiers opened fire.  
  
Natasha looked away, tears rolling down her cheeks once more. She couldn't seem to stop crying. Stefan Khushrenada said in a bored tone of voice, "If he is not dead now, he will soon join you, King Peacecraft. Continue the search for the child. And find the queen. Make her death a quick one."  
  
Thus dismissed, the soldiers ran to do as they were told. Stefan just shook his head at the king's inert body once more, then walked away. Natasha started to creep away, then heard something. The king. . .he was still alive? She crawled over to his body. . .despite the ragged holes in his body from the shooting, he still breathed. But death wasn't far.  
  
"Na. . .Natasha. Little one. Do. . .don't cry. You mu. . .must promise to get. . .that. . . disk. To my son. He must. . .know," the king whispered. Had he known she was there all along? Natasha frowned and the king laughed, a terrible, tearing sound, and the young girl flinched. Once he stopped coughing, the king whispered, "Once a soldier. I saw you."  
  
"Petyr's dead. They shot Petyr. They thought he was Milliardo, and they shot my little brother," Tasha told him, tears forming in her eyes all over again. She saw a terrible, answering compassion dawn in the icy blue eyes of the dying king, and he tenderly touched her cheek with his blood- stained hand.  
  
"I am sorry. Little one. Prom. . .promise me. Promise. . .Milliardo will. . .see that. . . disk. They. . .have made him. . .into a soldier. . .on this day. Fools. They know not. . .what they. . .have done. My poor son. . . he must know. I will not. . .blame him. He must. . .know!" the king whispered. He sighed one last time, "He must know," and then his brilliant eyes closed forever. Natasha didn't even have the strength to cry out. She just wept soundlessly as the king died in her arms. First Petyr, now King Raoul.  
  
Then she remembered that there were still others who needed her. She had to. . .Rina? There was still time to save Rina! That monster said something about a quick death for her. . . that meant Rina was still alive, that there was still hope! Natasha lowered the king's head gently to the ground and staggered to her feet. She had no idea how she looked, a half- hysterical young girl in a bloodstained nightgown, tears rolling down her face. It never even occurred to her to care. She stumbled into the castle, barely aware of the scratches and cuts on her feet from the stones, or that she was bleeding onto the white carpet.  
  
From upstairs, she heard a scream. Natasha froze where she stood, her blood turning to ice water in her veins. And without a second thought, she sped up in the direction of that scream, leaving bloody footprints on the hard wood floor. Her progress was halted by a gunshot, and Natasha slipped on her own blood, slamming her shins into the stairs.  
  
She bit back a cry as the gunshot was followed by the sound of glass breaking. She heard soldiers swearing, and skittered up the last few steps, once more seeking a hiding place. They were coming out into the open foyer now, two soldiers. Natasha found a hiding place behind an open door. They stood only a few yards away now, the soldiers could have seen Natasha if they were looking for her. Which they were not. They were still looking for Milliardo.  
  
It occurred to her then, how little it would take. She could be very quiet when she found it necessary. And it was necessary now. She could crawl out from her hiding space, and push at least one of them down the stairs. There were at least twenty-five steps, she never bothered to count them, but at least twenty-five. Hard wood stairs. She might not be able to kill one of the soldiers, but she could give him a concussion. A malevolent smile touched her lips.  
  
But what would she do about the other? Shoot him? Not likely. While she was considering her next move, the two soldiers began walking down the stairs. Natasha cursed herself for her indecision and her cowardice. No wonder Petyr was dead. . .he had a coward and a fool for a sister! She scowled and left her hiding place.  
  
She immediately wished she hadn't. As she rose to her feet, she half- turned. . .and came face to face with a body. The body of the girl who was her maid for the last two weeks, who helped her get ready for the ball the previous night. Madelon. She was a year older than Natasha and worked as a maid to earn money, so she could go to Sank University. She wanted to become a doctor. Those dreams ended sometime this morning when one of those monsters cut her throat. Slit it from ear to ear, then stuffed her body into a closet. Damn them. Damn them all. Natasha steeled herself to reach out and close Madelon's eyes, despite her childish terror that Madelon's zombie would take her into the endless darkness.  
  
It could be argued that by that time, Natasha wasn't fully sane. She certainly wouldn't have argued that she was sane. Her entire world was turned upside down in the space of only a few hours, then shattered into a kaleidescope of pieces, too many pieces to count. She could no longer draw the line between reality and fantasy, as the faces which accompanied the uniforms became those of horrific demons.  
  
But still, drawing on a strength she didn't know she possessed, she forced herself to go on. Was it even strength? Who could know? There was no sanity. Only the relentless fear that drove her on, the fear that she would find Katerina dead, just as her husband and Natasha's brother were both dead. The fear that despite the extreme measures taken by her family, Milliardo was dead as well. The fear that Petyr's death would mean nothing. It already meant nothing, already meaningless in one part of Natasha's soul. But if Milliardo was dead, too. . .  
  
She searched every room in the house. Found dead body after dead body. Housemaids. Guests. Trusted advisors to the king. So many dead. Even more injured. She moved through them all like a wraith, dressed in that bloodstained nightgown, her eyes glazed over. She wasn't even aware of covering the dead with blankets and sheets.  
  
Then she heard the laughter, as she moved silently through the kitchen. Male laughter. It sent chills down her spine, and for a moment, Natasha was too frightened to move. Then she heard something. . .what was it? She couldn't be sure. . .but it sounded like Annika. Annika was dead, though. As if that mattered. Did Annika need her now?  
  
If Annika needed her, Natasha wouldn't let her down. She moved silently from the kitchen. . .and beheld a sight which shocked her out of her state of near-catonia. A group of soldiers, standing around. . .something. She wasn't sure what it was. But one of them had his pants down, lowering them down around his hips.  
  
Natasha moved a little closer and the change in angle revealed a devastating truth. The inert figure around whom the soldiers were grouped. . .was Rina. Natasha's instincts took over then. There was no rational thought. No reminder to herself of the danger which she would face. Only. . .Rina. Helpless.  
  
"NO! You leave her alone!" she screamed, leaving her hiding place. The men turned slowly to face her. She ran at them, and they caught her easily, laughing as she screamed and clawed at them. Natasha finally snapped. The soldiers flung her to the ground, tearing at her already- bloodstained gown as they did.  
  
Through the haze of rage and grief which stole her senses, Natasha heard them laughing, "Why have a dead one when you can have a live one?" And her own danger began to make itself known to her, but it was too late. She screamed as the nightmare grew even worse.  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
Treize Khushrenada wanted to look away. Look away from the men under his brother's command, raping sixteen year old Natasha Galinova. He couldn't. Couldn't avert his eyes, couldn't close his eyes, couldn't escape. Just as she could not. Rage welled up in his soul as he watched the men pin the screaming girl, stuffing a torn piece of her own gown into her mouth to silence her. The unit commander watched his men in silent disinterest for a few moments, then went back into the castle, and Treize swore that if such a man ever served under him. . .  
  
"So tell me now, General Khushrenada. . .now that you have seen the blood-stirrin' sight of yer brother's troops overwhelming the Peacecraft castle and overcomin' the hordes of barbarian women and children, tell me now. . .where is the glory? Where is the honor? Tell me that, damn ye to hell!" Petyr Galinov rasped.  
  
Treize looked at his companion. He tried to speak, failed. Swallowed the lump in his throat. Tried again, whispering, "There was honor that day, Petyr Alexandrovich Galinov, if one knows where to look." Petyr took a step toward Treize, his eyes blazing with hatred. Treize continued, now able to speak, "There was honor in the young girl seeking to save her dead friend, from further defiling. And the little boy who sacrificed his life to save a friend. There is your honor. . .there is your glory." Petyr glared at him, still shaking. But he made no move.  
  
"It is not your place to damn anyone, Petyr, you know that. Forgive him, Treize. He has ever been very protective of his sister," a soft feminine voice said. Treize frowned. He recognized that voice, though he couldn't place it. Then the owner of the voice moved from the shadows, and Treize couldn't quite help his gasp of surprise. Katerina Peacecraft smiled and said, "I welcome you, Treize Khushrenada. The Creator will not be able to grant you an audience for some time yet, so Petyr and I were sent to keep you company on this journey. There were some things which we believed you should know, before your audience."  
  
Treize tried to find his voice, but the shocks were too many over his viewing of the Sank tragedy. Katerina continued, "There is one more thing which we must discuss. I understand your objective, over this last year, was peace. We may have differing ideas on the accomplishment of that peace, but I can respect that you wished for peace. However." Now she took a step forward, her eyes blazing with rage. She said in a low voice, "That does not mean I will forgive you for trying to kill my daughter. I cannot give you that forgiveness. I can forgive my death, and my husband's. But harm to my children, I cannot and will not forgive. Is that understood?" Treize lowered his eyes in acknowledgment.  
  
Seemingly satisfied, Katerina went on, "Excellent. Now, there is one more act which you must see. One final act, which will answer many of your questions, if not all of them. There are some things which will remain unanswered, at least for now. That is how it must be. I will answer your questions, the ones which I have been given leave to answer, but when the screen goes black, this journey will be complete. Are you ready, then, Treize Khushrenada? Are you ready for this final part of your journey?" Treize nodded and the screen lit one more time. 


	3. Questions Answered, Vows Made

Part Three  
  
Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
Unbeknownst to the five soldiers, they were being watched. At first, the interloper made no attempt to leave his hiding place. He was frozen in place from shock from everything he saw in the last few moments. The shock was overwhelmed after only a few minutes by fury and grief and guilt. How could he stand by and let such an evil thing happen?  
  
Removing the gun which he accepted from the king, Andrew Pagan left his hiding place and fired the pistol once, firing into the air. It got the attention of the five rutting monsters, and he levelled the gun at them. He said in a cold voice, "You will leave her alone. Now. Move away from that girl, or the next shot I fire will render you unable to have children. Not that this would be a great loss to the world in general."  
  
"You and whose army, old man?" one of the men laughed, running his hand along the young girl's thigh. She whimpered, her eyes glazed over, and Pagan's heart almost stopped. He realized for the first time that it was Lady Natasha. And only a few yards away was the queen. . .it didn't take much imagination for Pagan to figure out what happened.  
  
"He doesn't need an army. Get the hell out of here, before we open fire," a feminine voice said from just behind Pagan's shoulder. He wanted to weep for joy, recognizing that voice. But he heard a gun being cocked behind his ear as Kit Rogers continued, "You have thirty seconds to scramola. After that, say good-bye to the family jewels."  
  
"You don't have the guts to shoot us, you stupid bimbo!" another man hooted. Pagan never took his eyes from the men. But he did move to his right, making sure Kit had a clear shot. She did, and she took it. The man doubled over with a scream, holding his private parts.  
  
"Don't. . .tell. . .me. . .I don't have the nerve. I do. I know how to use a gun, and after what I've seen in the last seven hours, there's no way I'd hesitate to use it. I won't tell you again. Get your asses out of here, while you still have them. Because if you don't move away from that child right now, I'll shoot each of you in the balls. . .and make sure you can't be re-attached. I'm a doctor. I know how to do that," Kit answered.  
  
From inside, Pagan heard Stefan Khushrenada shouting for someone named Guelich. The four men remaining looked at each other uneasily, then a third man said, "He wants the commander. We better go see what's going on." The other two nodded, and they picked up their injured comrade between them, dragging him inside.  
  
Kit lowered her gun, trembling, but shifted the safety before replacing the pistol in the waistband of her jeans. She hurried to the barely conscious girl, murmuring soothing noises. Pagan knelt at her side, removing his own bathrobe before Kit even had to ask. She smiled at him gratefully and gently wrapped the bathrobe around poor Lady Natasha's violated body.  
  
"Let's get her to the shelter. . .can you carry her? It's all right, baby, it's all right," Kit asked Pagan, comforting Lady Natasha as she conferred with the fencing master. He nodded and carefully scooped the fragile, slight body into his arms. Kit tenderly stroked the girl's hair and they carefully headed toward the sanctuary which was set up.  
  
Kit was murmuring under her breath, it sounded as if she was making a list in her mind. Pagan barely paid attention. He had to get this poor child to the sanctuary. She needed medical care. She needed her family. They found the body of her little brother shortly after Alexei and Nathalie Galinov carried Prince Milliardo into the shelter. The little boy was coughing so hard, Pagan feared he would damage his lungs. And his clothes smelled of smoke. The ambassador explained that they found Prince Milliardo just outside the blazing tunnel.  
  
"There won't be a trial, Pagan, for the war crimes which occurred today. My first order of business will be to bathe Natasha. If this was an ordinary rape, I would follow the guidelines. But if there is justice for what happened today, it won't happen immediately. And Natasha cannot wait for that justice," Kit observed. Pagan nodded. He concurred.  
  
. . .  
  
Christina Rogers became a doctor to alleviate suffering. She chose gynecology, because her mother died following a botched operation. How such things could happen in these times, Kit never understood, but that event led her to her destiny as a doctor. And she truly believed that medicine was her destiny.  
  
Never was that more true than today. While gynecology was her specialty, Kit fell naturally into being a 'GP' as she tended to the wounded and the stunned. Some of her patients, following the sneak attack, had no physical injuries, but went into states of shock. They needed help. Kit had the knowledge, the patience, the desire to help them. It was a part of her identity.  
  
As soon as the attack begun, Kit was in the middle of an evacuation effort. Led by herself, Senator Dorlian and his wife, and Pagan, they evacuated people from the palace at the order of the king. He was searching for his wife, but he extracted a promise from Pagan that they would save as many as they could. Kit still didn't know how the man kept from losing control, as so many others, then she remembered. He *was* the king, after all.  
  
She learned during one of her early runs back to the sanctuary that Petyr Galinov was murdered. His small body was found under a large tree, covered by his older sister's bathrobe. Nathalie Galinova immediately fell to pieces.  
  
They retrieved the little prince from his hiding place only moments before a fire set by the soldiers would have overcome him. Fire was such an iffy thing. And with a child, who knew how long before the smoke was too much for small lungs? Especially when Milliardo spent so much strength in trying to open the door himself after the fire was set. But he was safe, now curled in the arms of Alexei Galinov.  
  
His small face was sooty, from the fire, and his clothes smelled of smoke. He looked tired, and Kit noticed that he was desperately trying to fight back tears. He understood, even if his little sister did not, what today meant. In more ways than one. But he was safe. Something which could not be said for little Petyr Galinov.  
  
Kit vowed to find Natasha Galinova at her first opportunity. She went back to the palace, using another underground tunnel to search for survivors of the attack who wasn't captured by the Alliance soldiers. But it wasn't Kit who originally found her. . .it was the man now carrying her toward the sanctuary. Kit's heart twisted in her chest as she thought of what that child must have endured today. For what she would live with, for the rest of her life.  
  
Once they were inside the shelter, Kit ordered two of her new helpers, one of whom was Renata Dorlian, to start running water. The first, a young servant named 'Sofie,' bobbed her head and fetched a tub. When Renata saw Natasha's state, she protested. They couldn't wash her, the younger woman cried, they needed evidence for the trial. To prove who did such a vile thing. All of this said while Natasha was sitting right in front of them. As if she didn't exist.  
  
Kit whipped around and glared at the younger woman, snarling, "WHAT trial? There will be no trial, Mrs. Dorlian! Don't you understand yet? The EarthSphere Alliance attacked the Sank Kingdom! And this is only the beginning. They killed Heero Yuy seven years ago, because he was a threat, because he was too popular."  
  
Kit was trembling, remembering her conversation with Katerina at the time of Heero Yuy's death. It was only a matter of weeks after Katerina learned she was pregnant with Milliardo. And she feared for her unborn child. Oh Katerina. Kit focused on the present, continuing, "It's happening again. There will be no trial. The Alliance will sweep this under the rug, saying how terrible it is that the rebels killed King Raoul before they died themselves!"  
  
The young woman took a step back, but Kit wasn't finished. She continued, her voice low, "And even if there was a trial, I don't give a damn about that right now. That child feels unclean. She feels like a piece of human waste. I can't bring back King Raoul. Nor can I bring back Katerina. But I can damn well make sure that girl has some sort of healing, even if it's as small as a bath. Is that clear?"  
  
"Perfectly," Renata Dorlian answered in a subdued voice as Sofie dragged a tub into the room, which was almost the same size she was. The pair began running water into buckets, testing the temperature with the backs of their hands. Meanwhile, Kit turned back to her shuddering patient and looked into her hazel eyes. Dear gods.  
  
Kit was a gynecologist, trained in women's medicine. But at the moment, she felt completely out of her depth. She was training in medicine, yes, but how did she go about healing someone's heart? This child lost a part of herself that she would never get back. She was raped, and in all likelihood, saw her brother's death. Her parents would be of no help at the moment. Maybe later, but not now. Right now, it was all up to Kit.  
  
She said in a soft voice, "Natasha, honey, it's Kit. Remember, we met at the ball last night?" The girl's dark head bobbed unsteadily, and Kit went on, "That's good. Now, we're getting a bath ready for you, so you can clean up. But before we do that, I need to get these clothes off you. Can I take off your nightgown? It's just us girls. . .no men in this room." Natasha stared straight ahead, but she bobbed her head again.  
  
Kit gently stroked Natasha's cheek, and the girl's breath hitched in her throat, her eyes widening ever so slightly. Even from another woman, touch was an iffy thing at the moment, Kit observed. She would have to be careful. With gentle hands, she began to undress Natasha. She talked to the girl in a low voice as she did so, reassuring her that Kit would not leave her, that she was safe now.  
  
Renata Dorlian joined them, her eyes flickering from Kit to Natasha, and Kit said as she pulled the nightgown over Natasha's head, "Renata is right here, Natasha. We'll help you to the tub, and then we'll get you washed up. Sofie is getting clean clothes for you, good clothes. There's no need to be afraid. We won't let them hurt you again."  
  
"Listen to Dr. Rogers, Lady Natasha," Renata said softly, "there's no way she, or my husband, or myself, or Pagan would ever allow anyone to hurt you again. I'll take your hand now. . .are you ready?" The girl nodded and Renata gently picked up the small, slender hand, then put a supporting hand under her elbow. Together, Kit and Renata eased the girl down from the table. Kit glanced over at Renata as they led her to the tub. . .the younger woman's eyes were burning with rage.  
  
However, she kept her voice gentle as Natasha picked up one foot and put it into the tub, telling the girl, "That's right, Natasha. Is the water all right?" Natasha bobbed her head. Renata looked at Kit helplessly, but the young doctor just sighed. She wasn't really surprised by Natasha's silence. Given what happened during the last few hours, she actually expected this.  
  
She told the younger woman, "Stay with her. . .talk to her, don't leave her alone for a minute. She can't be alone, for any reason. If she wants, let her wash herself. If she just sits there, then ask if she wants you to do it for her. Whatever you do, if you want to do something for her, ask her first. Give her control over something."  
  
"I understand. Where are you going?" Renata asked, her eyes flickering from the mute girl in the tub to Kit. The doctor's eyes shifted to the next room, and Renata continued, "Talk to her father. Talk to her mother. Right now, they're lost in their own grief, and she'll need them when she finally starts talking again."  
  
"Exactly what I was planning to do. Look after her for me," Kit replied and Renata bobbed her head, then returned to Natasha's side. Kit looked at the mute girl one last time, her heart breaking for the teenager, then set out in search of Natasha's parents. They lost one child today. . .she didn't want them to lose the other. But she couldn't do that without their help. Especially Alexei Galinov. He would be a key to Natasha's recovery.  
  
. . .  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
"I do not understand something. . .Petyr told me that Milliardo escaped from the tunnel himself. And yet, I just saw in the images. . .can you explain this, Queen Katerina?" Treize Khushrenada asked, interrupting the memory play. Petyr scowled at him, but remained silent. The images faded from sight, and the queen turned to face him.  
  
She was smiling as she explained, "Petyr only thinks he knows everything. The truth is, Petyr never knew how my son escaped from the burning tunnel. He simply made up the story. . . filled in the blanks himself, so to speak. While he has taken on the body of a man, in many ways, he is still a child. It was a child's fantasy, nothing more."  
  
"But it was a good one, yer Majesty," Petyr wheedled. Queen Katerina rolled her eyes, her lips twitching. The young Russian/Scot all but snarled at Treize, "And why couldna ye be keepin' yer big yap shut? It was a bloody good story, and exactly what I would have done in that position!" Treize started to speak, but Katerina held up her hand.  
  
"It was a good story, Petyr, but it was not true. My son was only six years old, as you were. Neither of you were strong enough to open the door from the inside. That was something which Natasha hadn't taken into consideration when she told him to hide in the tunnel. However, that is neither here nor there," the queen told them.  
  
Petyr was pouting now, and Treize realized that the queen was right. While Petyr wore the body of a man, he was a child inside his heart. In his soul. He was an innocent. Katerina looked back at Treize and asked, "Are you ready to continue?" He bobbed his head and Katerina went on, "Then we shall see this through to the end."  
  
The images lit up the screen as Kit Rogers determinedly strode into the main room of the guesthouse. Renata Dorlian would remain with Natasha, and Sofie was now returning with clothes for Natasha, while Kit tried to talk some sense into Alexei Galinov, as she put it.  
  
Sank Kingdom, AC 182  
  
Talking sense into Alexei Galinov was at the top of Kit's priority list. As she entered the main room of the guesthouse, though, she felt the earth tremble under her feet. She glanced over at Pagan, who said softly, "We must get these people out of here. The Alliance will continue the bombing. There's a series of underground tunnels, leading out of here. It's completely separate from the palace."  
  
"All right. Find three people who are in better shape, and we'll get started with the evacuation. I have to talk to Alexei Galinov. Just out of curiosity, have you seen Quinze Barton? I know the king invited him to the ball last night, and he stayed over rather than travel back to the colonies," Kit observed.  
  
Pagan grimaced and replied, "Yes, I have. And he seems terribly interested in Prince Milliardo. I do not trust that man, Miss Christina. I know the king sees. . .saw. . .him as an ally." Here, his voice cracked and Kit couldn't bring herself to speak. They were all mourning for King Raoul.  
  
"You disagree with Raoul's analysis of the man?" the doctor asked and Pagan looked around nervously. Kit took his point. She put her hand on his shoulder and said softly, "Keep an eye on him, Pagan. I don't trust him, either. I wouldn't put it past him to try to use a six year old boy to avenge the death of Heero Yuy."  
  
"Nor would I. See if you can talk sense into Galinov. He's been muttering about Lady Natasha. Keeps saying that she should have died instead, that she didn't protect her brother properly," Pagan said.  
  
Kit smiled tightly and replied, "That would be the plan. As soon as I can, I'll start helping with the evacuation. For the moment, just get as many people moved downstairs as possible. If you can, keep Milliardo with you. I have a feeling my tete-a-tete with Galinov may get nasty, and I don't want Milliardo to get caught in the crossfire."  
  
"Yes, Miss Christina. But it may already be too late," Pagan said, and nodded toward the six year old now sitting on the floor. Quinze Barton was headed in his direction. SHIT! Now what! Pagan said softly, "I have an idea. Leave it to me. Talk some sense into Galinov."  
  
. . .  
  
But that didn't happened. Alexei's rage grew, along with his mutterings. Natasha failed her little brother, it should have been her who died, instead of Petyr. What use was a daughter? Petyr was to be his legacy, he was to have carried on the family name. Now, he had nothing left. Kit was no psychiatrist, but she was willing to bet that he was lashing out because he couldn't handle his own guilt. Regardless of who was with Petyr at the moment of his death, it was Alexei's idea. How would it feel, believing that you caused the death of your youngest child?  
  
She knew he was devastated. There was no question about that. The entire family was devastated, the whole family was in pain. And Alexei's pain was compounded with guilt and rage. Toward himself. That didn't make it any easier for her to keep her temper with him, however, as they argued. Alexei refused to speak to his daughter, refused to comfort her. He once more repeated his litany that it was her fault Petyr was dead. She obviously failed to protect him. She should have died, not his precious little son.  
  
Kit countered that the people responsible for Petyr's death were the ones who ordered the attack and the one who shot him. While she learned in the last few hours that Stefan Khushrenada was one of the commanders, he had not planned the attack. Had not given the order for the bombs to be dropped. She had not yet learned the names of the men who gave the order, who shot Petyr. The ones ultimately responsible for his death.  
  
Which, she was sure, he considered as well. But he was too angry to care. As Alexei vowed he no longer had a daughter, that she should have died, rather than Petyr, Kit noticed a movement from the corner of her eye. Renata Dorlian emerged from the kitchen, her arm wrapped protectively around a damp Natasha. Sofie stood on the other side of the young Russian girl, her own stance protective.  
  
It was clear from the faces of everyone in the room that both Renata and Natasha heard every word that was said in the last five minutes. This was made even more evident when Renata said in an icy voice, "Sofie, I understand they're evacuating people to downstairs. Could you escort Lady Natasha to the safe room and stay with her? She needs someone, and you're the best choice. The only choice."  
  
It should have been one of her parents. Natasha just endured one of the most devastating assaults any female could face. It should have been the people who created Natasha who were with Natasha now. It wasn't. It was a young maid who knew her for less than a month. The girl nodded and put a hand under Natasha's elbow, replying, "It would be an honor, Mrs. Dorlian. Come along, Lady Natasha."  
  
The Russian girl flinched at the touch. Everyone in the room saw it. There was no doubt left, Kit saw, in anyone's mind. What was done to Natasha. Milliardo rose suddenly to his feet from his position beside Alexei. While he was too young to understand rape, he obviously understood pain. But even as Milliardo approached the two girls, a devastating explosion rocked the sanctuary. Their refuge was no longer safe. Kit was thrown to the ground, as were the others. Screams of pain and terror echoed through the refuge, and Pagan yelled, "Downstairs, two at a time, now! Able-bodied people, help the injured!"  
  
Renata helped Kit to her feet, and the doctor could see that Eric Dorlian was already carrying Relena from the room. That was all she could see. Renata told her as they evacuated everyone else, "Sofie has already taken Natasha downstairs. They weren't that far from the door when the bomb exploded." Kit nodded, barely able to hear the younger woman through the ringing in her ears.  
  
"Where is Milliardo?" she asked. Kit saw him briefly, as she pushed herself to her knees after the explosion, then lost sight of him. Renata began looking around. Kit shook her head a few times, to clear it, but the ringing was still in her ears. Damn the Alliance anyhow. Absurdly, she found herself on the point of tears. She could barely hear, dammit! But there were people who lost their lives today, who lost people whom they loved. And she was crying because she couldn't hear? What the hell was wrong with her?  
  
"I'm not sure, Dr. Rogers, but I'm sure he's here somewhere," the younger woman replied. Kit frowned. She couldn't do anything until everyone was downstairs. In the meantime, she had to hope and pray that Pagan was able to keep the little boy away from Quinze Barton. The man was an ally. That didn't mean King Raoul wanted him anywhere near either of his children.  
  
The Great Divide, AC 196  
  
"So that is how Milliardo was separated from Relena, and from the people who were meant to raise him. Alexei Galinov was lost in his own rage and guilt, while Nathalie was lost in her grief. Pagan was trying to get everyone to safety," Treize mused. Katerina nodded sadly, and Treize asked, "If Milliardo was not separated from the Galinov family, if he grew up with Relena. . .?"  
  
"Who can say? I cannot. There are so many possibilities, Treize. Kit never forgave herself for not keeping a better eye on my son. I suppose that's why she joined the Alliance afterward. She changed her specialty from gynecology, began studying other things, and in time, learned that Milliardo was a cadet at Lake Victoria. She became Sally Po's mentor, tried to change the Alliance from the inside out. Then Oz took over," Katerina explained.  
  
"And. . .the Galinov family? Did they ever heal? I know Natasha eventually went into outer space, I could glean that from what was said. She made a reference while her hair was being cut that she had not set foot on Earth for nearly fifteen years," Treize said, then blinked. The main screen was devoted to Ciara's encounter with the bullies and the Gundam pilots in the arcade. . .how did he notice Natasha getting her hair cut on one of the smaller screens?  
  
"Ahhh, my father," Petyr said before Katerina could answer, and now there was real bitterness in his voice, "quite the hero. He could snatch a little boy from a deadly fire, but he wasn't man enough to admit he was wrong. Father couldn't forgive Natasha for livin,' and I can't forgive him for not forgivin' her. It was his idea, yer Majesty. He wants to blame someone, someone aside from the Alliance, he can damn well blame himself."  
  
"He has never forgiven himself, Petyr, he has already forgiven your sister. In truth, he never blamed her. Unfortunately, his pride and grief and guilt got in the way. . .and, as Kit foretold, they lost both children that day. There is one other thing which must be addressed, although you may have realized this from listening to Kit's thoughts," Katerina replied. Treize raised an eyebrow questioningly, and the queen went on, "Natasha believed your brother Stefan was in command that day. He was, but only of one unit. You already know who planned the attack, and who actually led the attack." He nodded. Yes, he knew. And he saw to it that Milliardo was the one who took out the general in question.  
  
"So. . .what happens now?" Treize asked quietly as the screen slowly faded to black. He guessed that he would see no more of the past. That he saw what he was supposed to see. He just wasn't sure what he would do with his knowledge yet. Or if there was anything he could do. He was dead, after all.  
  
"Now? Now we wait. As I said, the Creator is not yet ready to speak with you. While we wait, you remember what you saw today. What you did not see. And you remember. You remember how the smallest thing can result in a huge change. Destiny turns on small wheels, Treize Khushrenada," Katerina replied.  
  
Treize nodded in acknowledgment, and Katerina went on, "Where we are now, as I believe Petyr told you, is called 'the great divide.' It is the division between the physical world and the metaphysical, between nature and the supernatural. But that is actually a description, rather than an actual name. Each person develops their own name for this place. Some see it as hell. Some as Heaven, some as Limbo."  
  
"I understand that the rules state you cannot. . .that there can be no contact between the living and us," Treize observed.  
  
Katerina glanced at Petyr with a mischievous grin, replying, "As I said. Petyr only THINKS he knows everything."  
  
"Bloody hell, ye ruin all me fun," Petyr grumbled and Katerina laughed aloud. Treize managed to keep from smiling himself, and the man- boy went on, "Well, ye do! Ye tell Khushrenada how Julian really escaped, when I had a perfectly good story, perfectly good explanation, and now this!"  
  
"Poor child," Katerina said, laughing, "We always have abused you, have we not? Now, I want you to return to the others. I have more things which I must discuss with Treize." Petyr glared at Treize, then simply vanished from the young general's sight. Treize blinked in surprise, and Katerina said, "You will become used to it, in time."  
  
"I have no doubt that I will. In time, one can accustom oneself to almost anything. You said there were other things you wished to discuss with me, your Majesty?" Treize asked politely. Katerina nodded, and held out her hand to the young man. Not quite sure what else to do, Treize took it.  
  
"Yes. First, I want to apologize for Petyr. He seems to become a child when my husband and I are nearby. Perhaps because he was a child when he left the physical plane, perhaps because we were authority figures. But I truly want to apologize if he was unkind to you before my arrival," Katerina answered.  
  
Treize raised his eyebrows, and Katerina explained, "Petyr is very protective of those he loves. He is unwilling to admit that Milliardo made his share of mistakes. Like a child, he wishes to blame you, and your brother, for everything that hurt Milliardo, Relena, and Natasha. He cannot forgive his father for hurting Natasha. He. . .sees things in black and white. He does not understand, even now, shades of gray."  
  
"There are many who never learn that lesson, your Majesty, no matter how many years they live and breathe. I took no offense, once I realized the source of Petyr's anger and resentment," Treize answered. The queen smiled, and Treize continued, "But I am sure that is not the only reason why you wished to speak with me."  
  
"It is not. As I explained, Petyr does not know everything. It is true, we are not encouraged to interact with those among the living. Or more properly, those of the physical plane, since we live as well. However, nor is it forbidden. We can interact with them in their dreams. And, if the need is great enough, we can actively take part in their lives. But the need must be great, and the Creator must permit it," Katerina explained.  
  
Treize started to speak, but demonstrating the same ability which Petyr showed earlier, Katerina read his mind. She shook her head, telling him, "No. I would not recommend that you visit my son in his dreams as yet. Milliardo is still having nightmares of you. Of the last days of the war. It is not yet time. I cannot stop you, but if you care for my son, you will wait."  
  
Treize hesitated, then nodded. Katerina smiled gently, then said, "However, if you would like to visit your Lady Une, that would be quite permissible. The poor girl has been through quite enough. And Treize, may I suggest that you consider speaking to your daughter Mariemeia at some time?" Treize stared at her. How. . .?  
  
"How did I know about Mariemeia? I exist on a different plane of existence. I can watch over more than one person. I can watch over my son, my daughter. My sweet friend Natasha. Even your daughter. You were wondering earlier why you picked up on Tasha's remark, concerning being back on earth. That is how. Even though your attention was focused on the main screen, you can also learn and see the other screens," Katerina explained.  
  
That made sense. Sort of. Treize asked, "What should I say to her? To Mariemeia, to Lady Une?" He knew what he wanted to tell Milliardo. That all was forgiven, that he understood so much better now. But he caused Milliardo enough anguish during his life. . .he would give his eternal friend time to heal.  
  
"To your daughter? The same thing I tell my daughter every night when I kiss her. The same thing I tell my son when I tuck him into bed. I stand behind Tasha as she arranges the covers around his shoulders and touches his hair. Tell her that you love her, that you believe in her. That there will be times when her life will be difficult, but you have faith she will eventually make the right decision," Katerina answered.  
  
She smiled impishly, then added, "And your Lady Une? I am sure you know exactly what to tell her. Off with you now!" Treize started to speak, then found himself. . .fading. Or was the queen fading? He couldn't be sure. And he was so tired. So. . .very. . .tired. Treize gave himself up, surrendering without further battle.  
  
. . .  
  
"What now, sister?" a soft voice asked, materializing where Treize Khushrenada was a few minutes earlier. Katerina smiled, reaching out to touch her sister. Touch was so different here. She had no words to explain it. . .just that it went far beyond physical sensation. She tucked a strand of honey blonde hair back behind Annika's ear and smiled again at her younger sister. There were times when she wished she named her daughter 'Annika.' The resemblance between her daughter and her sister took her breath away. . .  
  
"Now? Now we wait, little one. We wait and we watch. I have been given permission to go to Tasha, once the little one is asleep. Oh, she will not be aware of my presence. But I will be there. And is that not the more important thing?" Katerina asked and her sister nodded, smiling. Katerina touched her sister's hair again, and asked, "Would you like to come with me, love? I received permission on your behalf."  
  
Annika's eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly. Katerina smiled sadly. Tasha was no longer the seven year old girl who held Annika's hand as she died. No longer the sixteen year old girl whose innocence was shattered. At the same time, those two girls remained. No matter how many years passed, no one ever completely lost the child they were. It was a fact. It was only a matter of whether a person was willing to admit it. Both her son and Tasha. . .well, neither of them were willing to admit it. Milliardo believed he had. Tasha. . .was not yet ready.  
  
Not yet, at least. Milliardo was always stubborn, even as a toddler. Tasha's determination was much more quiet. But made all the more intense by that silence. Katerina knew, just because she knew them, that they would have to acknowledge the children they were, together. Because, when all was said and done, Milliardo and Tasha were mirror images of each other. They both died and were reborn in the ashes of the Sank Kingdom. The Phoenix.  
  
Katerina took her sister's hand, focusing on her children. Focusing on Milliardo. On Tasha. She felt Annika's hand, her sister's fingers curling around her own. Felt the young girl's focus on her best friend. And together, the sisters learned to fly, guided by their faith.  
  
L-2, AC 196  
  
Talia Malloy sighed heavily and deposited her body on the swing which adorned the porch of the house. It was a busy day. She learned from Ciara while she was tucking in her daughter that the girl encountered trouble at the arcade. The gundam pilots, except Heero Yuy, came to her aid. Ciara now wanted to learn self-defense, so she would never be helpless again. Talia flinched, hearing herself in those words.  
  
After the fall of the Sank Kingdom, she returned to Russia with her parents. It was two weeks before she could even speak again. Her father's rage stole her voice. He hated her for letting Petyr die. Hated her for allowing the rape. She simply accepted it. It was her fault, after all. She should have protected her little brother better. Should have found some way to defend herself and the queen. It took several years before she finally accepted that she was defenseless, at least against the rape. She still considered herself damaged goods, though.  
  
Everyone at the boarding school heard about the fall of the Sank Kingdom. And as soon as Talia returned to the school, Beatriz insisted that Natasha accompany her home for weekends and holidays. The Russian girl agreed. She no longer had a home. And for the next few months, Beatriz and her family took care of her. They became her family, including Beatriz's adorable little sister, Julia. Or, more appropriately, most of all, Julia.  
  
After she was shipped off to the boarding school, she never saw her parents again. When the school year ended, Beatriz begged her to stay in Spain with them once more. But Natasha was finished with earth. While she was only sixteen, she had an education which surpassed that of many high school students. It was time to go.  
  
Before she left Earth, Natasha agreed to tell her friend's father what happened on that day. The day before she left for L2, Natasha told Don Tomas everything. Somehow, Talia got through the entire recital without bursting into tears. Once she was finished, Don Tomas left his seat and knelt in front of her. She stared at him, terrified. Would he hate her? Tell her that she should have never entered his house, become his daughter's friend? Instead, the man wrapped his arms around her, murmuring, "Mi hija. Mi hija valiente."  
  
The following morning, she learned from Beatriz that it meant, 'my daughter. My brave daughter.' Two days after her departure from Earth, Talia remembered, Don Tomas Escalante resigned his position inside the Romefellar Foundation. The following month, he was assassinated and Dona Francisca fled Spain with Beatriz and Julia. That was the last Talia heard of the Escalante family. She hoped they were all right.  
  
Being here. . .with Zechs. . .the attack against Ciara. . .all of it brought back memories. So many memories from that night. She wondered about Kit Rogers. Talia knew that Eric Dorlian was dead, assassinated the previous year. According to the reports she received, Treize Khushrenada was behind that. Surprise, surprise. Treize Khushrenada. He became the man his brother hoped for, in some ways. Talia sighed and shook her head.  
  
At the same time, Talia wished Stefan Khushrenada learned some things from his younger brother. Wished. . . She shook her head. She thought at first that her prayer for deliverance wasn't answered for Khushrenada's younger brother, but perhaps she was wrong. She knew that he left the Romefellar Foundation, returning only when Zechs was revealed as the leader of White Fang. Talia sighed. All water under the bridge. She did know that between Treize and Stefan, she would have preferred that Stefan died six weeks earlier. Treize was only twenty-five. Too damn young to die, just like everyone else who died in that damn war.  
  
Talia leaned her head back, staring up at the moon, and allowed her mind to drift. //That's one thing I miss about earth,// she thought, //the way the moon looks in the night sky. // She didn't know a Gundam pilot, namely Duo Maxwell, once said something similar. She would have been amused if she did know. She would have also agreed with his assertion that the moon did indeed look like a graveyard from L2.  
  
Talia closed her eyes. So many memories. She pulled her jacket around her shoulders a little more tightly. She thought of them all tonight, as she had every night for the last six weeks, ever since they rescued Zechs. Mother, Father, Petyr, King Raoul, Katerina. Everyone who died that day, everyone whose life was turned upside down.  
  
Annika. Kit Rogers. Renata Dorlian. Beatriz Escalante. Sofie. Talia smiled suddenly, remember the young girl who held her protectively in the shelter as the bombs continued to fall on Sank. Where was Sofie now? Had she survived? Talia hoped so. So many deaths, so much destruction, so much pain. Was it worth it? Talia doubted if she would ever know. She did know that war hadn't ended. It wasn't that easy. No matter what happened six weeks earlier, there would be another war. She didn't know when, or where. She didn't know who would fight it. Who would start it. She only knew that this time, she wouldn't be watching.  
  
She spent enough time watching. Enough time avoiding her past. Enough time being a coward. It was time she remembered why her brother died. Not just to save the prince, though that was part of it. Her brother died because there was no one to protect the Sank Kingdom. There had to be someone willing to fight, in order to preserve peace. Preserve freedom.  
  
Shawn agreed. They discussed this very topic at lunch, while Ciara was dragging Zechs around the malls on L2. Shawn believed there would be another war. Sometime after the Gundams were destroyed, when the new government was unprepared for it. He was a soldier once. He knew about attacking when an enemy was vulnerable.  
  
//There will be another attack,// Talia thought. //Sometime when no one sees it coming. Or, if they do, it will be too late. Relena, bless her heart, is an innocent. She doesn't understand that wars don't end when all the arms are destroyed. That peace isn't attained by not fighting. This isn't over. Zechs doesn't realize it yet, but his part of history hasn't been finished. There will be another war. Shawn thinks it will be within the next year. He knows more about war than I do. Pitiful, isn't it? The attack on the Sank Kingdom ended my life as Natasha Galinova, but I have no ideas about strategy. I've spent the last fifteen years hiding. No more.//  
  
She rose to her feet. No, Zechs wasn't finished fighting yet. None of them were. It was time to start preparing. Now. She looked up at the sky and whispered, her Russian accent slipping into her speech for the first time since her departure from earth, "It was not in vain, Petyr. Your death, and those of the Peacecrafts. I shall see to that."  
  
She swallowed hard, but lifted her chin proudly, and added, " I have been a coward these last fifteen years, but I will run away no more. I cannot face Mother and Father yet. But I will not run away from war, as I have been. I have failed you, my dearest little brother. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you can all forgive me."  
  
She slid her hand inside her jeans pocket, where she carried the diskette given to her by King Raoul all those years ago. Then she looked up at the sky again, adding, "I will give this to him, your Majesty. To your son. I should have sought him out years ago, but I was wrapped up in my own pain. In my own grief. For that, I hope you can forgive me. For failing to look after your children, I hope you both can forgive me. King Raoul. Katerina, my dearest friend."  
  
She remembered the broadcast of the battle between Chang Wufei and Treize Khushrenada. The tapes which were broadcast. She smiled faintly, remembering Khushrenada's last comment to the young Gundam pilot. She whispered, "Katerina, my dearest friend, my eternal friend. My sister."  
  
She sighed, closing her eyes. And imagined that she heard Katerina whispering, "There is nothing to forgive, sweet little sister. Go to bed. You must rest. You must rest." The wind blew softly against her face and Talia nodded. Yes. It was time to rest. Time to rest before the war, whatever war that was coming, began. 


End file.
